


The Hobbit - Bilbo, why did you have to say it?

by Elderflower



Series: What difference can one person make? [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Freaking Huge Spiders!, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Smut, Why couldn't it be follow the butterflies?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 66,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5070736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elderflower/pseuds/Elderflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I do believe the worst is behind us."<br/>Oh good god...<br/>Part two is now underway. Having escaped the clutches of orcs and goblins, most of their supplies are gone, Vana and Thorin are recovering from injuries and there's still a whole wilderland, woodland and lake to cross before they get to the Mountain. Well we all know how well that goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Travelling Circus

**Author's Note:**

> Beorn is the greatest. That's all I have to say.

_ Vana _

Once Kíli and I finally made our way back to the company he sat with me, holding my hand while Óin cleaned my wounds with his herbs again. He had to use the last of his supply, having had the majority of his medical remedies stolen by the goblins, which worried him to no end. Gandalf, however, assured him that we would get by. He used magic to reclose my wounds again, reminding me that running and fighting and anything that wasn’t walking was out of the question until we could get them stitched properly.   
Fíli, Kíli and Bofur tried their best to cheer me up but no amount of laughter could lessen this feeling that I was nothing but a burden. I slept curled against Kíli, my head resting against his chest and his arms carefully wrapped around me, soothing me from my restless sleep. The images of the vision were intensifying since seeing Azog the Defiler on the mountainside. I thought it must have been him I had seen in the mirror. He killed Fíli and dropped him from the watch tower. He then killed Kíli on the tower and dropped his body on the ground, while the Elf-woman wept and Kíli appeared only asleep. The images invaded my sleeping mind and caused me to wake with tears pouring down my face. Kíli felt me trembling in his arms and woke up to find me desperately searching his chest with my hand.   
“Vana?” He whispered, placing his hand against my tear-stained cheek. I met his concerned gaze, the deep brown of his eyes reassuring me that he was still with me.   
“You’re alive,” I whispered stupidly. “You were dead…”   
He gently placed his hand over mine, pressing it to the centre of his chest. Beneath my palm I could feel the steady beat of his heart.   
“I’m alive,” he whispered. “We’re alive, and we’re together.”   
I nodded and closed my eyes in relief, snuggling closer to him. He kissed the top of my head as I started to drift back to sleep.   
“I’ll never leave you, amrâlimê.”

The next day Fíli and Nori, who had been on watch, woke us all at daybreak and with nothing to eat and no gear to pack up we were up and walking within minutes. We followed the river west until it no longer ran in our direction and from there Gandalf directed us.   
We walked all day until sunset drew near and Fíli and Kíli found us a place to sleep. It was a clearing at the foot of a small hill and, having gone without food all day, nobody slept easily. The next morning we were all awoken by the sound of distant, all too familiar howls and Thorin sent Bilbo, the smallest and quietest of us, up the hill to scout out the threat.  
We waited at the foot of the hill for Bilbo’s report, the tension weighing heavily on us all. No one could stand still, fidgeting or pacing the ground. On top of the warg’s howls, we could now hear distant roaring and only grew more anxious.   
“Was that them?” Ori asked nervously, shrinking closer to his older brother, Dori.   
“I’m not sure,” he replied.   
“Here he comes!” Fíli called softly as Bilbo appeared, skittering down the hill.  
“How close is the pack?” Thorin asked in a hushed voice.   
“Too close!” Bilbo replied. “A couple of leagues, no more. But that’s not the worst of it.”   
“Have the wargs picked up our scent?” Dwalin asked.   
“Not yet, but they will. But we have another problem.”   
“Did they see you?” Gandalf demanded. “They saw you!”   
“No, but -”  
“There, see?” Gandalf addressed the rest of us with a proud smile. “What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material.”   
We all nodded and agreed with him until Bilbo raised his voice above the rest of us.   
“ _Will you just listen?”_ He called in an exasperated voice. “I’m trying to tell you there is something else out there!”  
A unanimous, exasperated sigh reverberated around the group. I turned to Kíli and caught his eye, fearing that I wouldn’t be able to take another bout of running. The wounds on my back bristled at the thought of it. Kíli reached out and grasped my hand to reassure me and I gripped it back, trying to keep the fear from my expression.   
“What form did it take?” Gandalf asked Bilbo. “Like a bear?”   
This specific question caused Bilbo to peer at Gandalf curiously.   
“Yes but bigger, much bigger.”   
“You knew about this beast?” Bofur asked the wizard but Gandalf made no response other than to turn and look behind him, deep in thought. “I say we double back.” Bofur addressed Thorin.   
“And be run down by a pack of Orcs!” Dwalin pointed out.   
“There is a house,” Gandalf suddenly turned back to us. “Not far from here, where we might take refuge.”  
“Whose house?” Thorin asked impatiently. “Are they friend or foe?”   
“Neither,” Gandalf admitted. “He will help us or he will kill us.”   
“What choice do we have?”   
Before Gandalf could answer, a colossal roar sounded from over the hill, making us all jump.   
“None,” Gandalf said pointedly before pointing us in the right direction.   
“I don’t like these odds,” I muttered as I passed him and we broke into a run and Gandalf’s command. We had not gone a few hundred yards before I felt my back protesting. By the time the sun had fully risen above the horizon I could feel the trickle of blood start to seep into my tunic.   
“How much farther?” I called to Gandalf, silently cursing the obvious pain in my voice.   
“Not too far now!” came his reply. “Just through these trees and across the field! This way, quickly!”   
The roars and howls in the background made me grit my teeth harder as I forced myself to keep pace with Kíli. Despite my injuries, I was not willing to give up my place as fastest runner. Dwarves were natural sprinters but wasted on cross country – where my advantage lay.   
“Fly!” Gandalf shouted as we exited the trees. In the distance across the field I could see the house and I kept my eyes fixed on it – I almost didn’t notice Bombur sprinting past me at an unimaginable speed for someone his size. By the time we reached the house he had overtaken everyone, including Fíli and Kíli, and was heading at ramming speed towards the door – only to bounce right back off it and almost career into Fíli as the door refused to open. Fíli and Kíli slammed themselves against it, desperately trying to force it open while I stopped to help Bombur up. I took one of his hands and pulled, only for a sharp stabbing pain to lance its way up my back, making me gasp. Bifur and Nori were the next to arrive and they took over helping Bombur up. The rest of the dwarves crowded against the door, pushing and shouting as it still refused to open. A loud growl echoed from behind us and I turned to see a huge black bear explode out of the trees with a mighty roar, galloping at an unnerving speed towards us.   
“Open the door!” Gandalf shouted as he approached and Thorin sprinted past us, pushing his way through the throng to lift the latch above the handle and cause the doors to swing open. We quickly crowded inside, Gandalf pulling me and Bilbo further into the house while the dwarves began to shove the doors closed. They managed the first but the second was soon blocked by the massive bear’s head. I saw its jaws come alarmingly close to Kíli’s head and Bilbo and I drew our swords, ready to fight. With a final push, the dwarves managed to shove the second door closed and fix the latch across the handles, leaving the beast growling outside and the dwarves gasping for breath. With a sigh I lowered my sword, the pain in my back becoming more apparent as the rush of the chase wore off.   
“What is that?” Ori asked, peering through the keyhole.   
“That is our host,” Gandalf said calmly and we all looked at him as if he was crazy. He seemed unmoved by this and continued: “His name is Beorn, and he’s a skin-changer.”   
“A skin-changer?” I straightened up, momentarily forgetting my back. “I thought they were all dead?”   
“Evidently not,” Gandalf raised an eyebrow and I scowled at his sarcasm. “Sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable but the man can be reasoned with. However, he is not over fond of dwarves.”   
“That’s reassuring,” Fíli muttered as he, Kíli and Thorin began to explore the house. It appeared to be a glorified barn, coupling as both a stable - housing a large grey horse, several goats, two cows and a fair few chickens – as well as a kitchen with a large wooden table. The furniture was massive, too big even for Gandalf. Above us, the loft held a large wooden bed with a mattress and pillows stuffed with hay. The floor around us was covered in straw, but seemed relatively clean, and I found the smell of the animals strangely comforting.   
While the rest of the dwarves began scoping out the house, Ori turned from his position at the keyhole.   
“He’s leaving,” he told us.   
“Come away from there!” Dori grabbed his arm and pulled him gently from the door before turning to Gandalf. “It’s not natural, none of it. It’s obvious, he’s under some dark spell.”   
“Don’t be a fool!” Gandalf snapped. “He’s under no enchantment but his own. All right, now get some sleep, all of you. We’ll be safe here tonight.”   
He muttered something under his breath which I couldn’t catch but I was too focused on my back to care. I spotted a pile of straw next to the stall where the horse was tied up and made my way over to it. I held my hand out for the horse to sniff and he gave an obliging nicker to let me know I could stay near him. I slowly sat myself down on the straw, wincing slightly as I took my coat off.   
“Vana?” Bilbo appeared, crouched next to me. “Are you alright?”   
“Aye, I’m alright,” I nodded, folding my coat up to place under my back against the wooden wall behind me. “It was just all that running, nothing to worry about.”   
“You sure?” He peered at me, concern etched all over his face.   
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to smile. “Don’t worry about me.”   
This request was short-lived as Fíli, Kíli and Dwalin all asked the same thing and I insisted I was absolutely fine, I just ached.   
“I just need to rest. If I’m still sore in the morning then I’ll have Óin take a look, I promise.”   
Eventually they let me be and we all settled down for a warm meal, prepared by Bombur from what we could scavenge from Beorn’s kitchen. Fíli and Kíli offered to hunt but Gandalf forbade them from going outside while Beorn was still in his bear form. After dinner we settled in the lower floor of the house – feeling it would be disrespectful to both eat Beorn’s food _and_ steal his bed – and one by one the company dropped off to sleep. I tossed and turned for a while, unable to find a position where my back wasn’t aching from any pressure being put on it. In the end, Kíli pulled me against him as I was facing away from him so my back rested against his chest.   
I was a little embarrassed at first, thinking this was a very intimate position to be sleeping in surrounded by the company, but my fatigue soon overpowered me and I managed to drift off into a shallow, but peaceful sleep.

I was woken the next day as Kíli was getting up.   
“Sorry,” he whispered, placing his hand softly on my shoulder as I turned to face him. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You should go back to sleep.”  
“I’m up anyway,” I muttered and began to sit up, only to freeze as my back coiled in protest.   
“You’re in pain,” Kíli frowned and helped me to sit up. “I’ll wake Óin.”  
“No!” I grabbed his arm to hold him in place. “Don’t trouble him. He needs to rest, they all do.”   
“Vana -”  
“When he wakes up I’ll talk to him. Kíli, please?” I looked up at him and his frown deepened before he reluctantly nodded and sat down beside me, letting me rest my head on his shoulders.   
“I hate seeing you in pain,” he whispered. “I swear if I could get my hands on those goblins again -”  
“Kíli,” I rubbed his arm soothingly. “It’s over. We escaped and we’re safe now. Let’s just forget it ever happened, alright?”   
“It’s pretty hard when you’re keeling over in pain before my eyes,” Kíli hissed before whipping round to look at me, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I don’t blame you or anything -”  
“Kíli, just be quiet.” I shook my head with a small smile.   
“Good idea,” Fíli muttered from the ground next to me, turning to face us. “Some of us are still trying to sleep!”   
“Apologies,” I replied, smiling down at the golden-haired prince before turning back to Kíli. “Is anyone else up?”   
“Thorin, Dwalin and Gandalf,” Kíli nodded over towards the table where the three of them were talking in hushed voices.   
“Should we go and see what they’re talking about?” I asked.   
“ _You_ should go back to sleep,” Fíli said to me, standing up.   
“Oh no you don’t,” I smirked, making to stand up myself but wincing as my back protested. Kíli was instantly on his feet, his arms around me and helping me up.   
“At least let us help -”  
“I’m fine, I can walk!” I forced myself to laugh as I settled on my feet with a grimace.   
With a final sigh from the brothers, we made our way over to the dining table and into the conversation.   
“How do we know he can be trusted?” Thorin was asking Gandalf in a dark voice.   
“The issue is not whether we can trust him, but whether _he_ can trust us,” Gandalf answered calmly. “He is not fond of dwarves but he knows there’s an orc pack following us and if there’s anything Beorn truly hates, it’s orcs. Besides, the fact that we’re all standing here is as good an indication as any that he wants to hear what we have to say.” He paused to smile at us as we approached.   
“How are you feeling uncle?” Fíli asked Thorin, who responded with a nod before turning back to Gandalf.   
“What do we do then?”   
“We should wake the others, they -”  
_CRACK!_  
The sudden noise made us all jump, instinctively reaching for our weapons. The rest of the sleeping company were jolted awake and scrambled to their feet.   
“What was that?” Glóin growled.    
“Is it the beast?” Dori squeaked.  
“Calm down, all of you!” Gandalf called to them. “It is our host is chopping wood.”   
The loud _CRACK_ came again and in the distance I could hear the soft whinnying of ponies, the sound making me miss Angus.   
“It’s sounds like he’s chopping trees with bigger trees!” Bofur muttered with a poorly concealed gulp.  
The dwarves lowered their weapons and made their way over to us with many disgruntled mutterings. Bilbo sidled up to me, pulling his coat on.   
“How are you feeling today?” he asked.   
“We were just about to discuss how to best approach our host,” Gandalf announced over us, silencing my reply.   
“I say we should leg it, slip out the back way!” Nori chimed in. He was answered by Dwalin grabbing his shoulder roughly.   
“I’m not runnin’ from anyone! Beast or no!” he hissed at Nori who was about to respond angrily before Gandalf interrupted.  
“There’s no point in arguing. We cannot pass through the Wilderlands without Beorn’s help. We’ll be hunted down before we even get to the forest!” He began to make his way to the back door out of the kitchen. “Now, this will require some delicate handling. We must tread very carefully. The last person to have startled him was torn to shreds.”   
“That’s reassuring,” I mumbled.   
“I will go first,” Gandalf ignored me, pointing at Bilbo. “Bilbo, you come with me.”   
“Uh…” Bilbo glanced warily at us. I shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile and Thorin nodded for him to follow Gandalf. He sighed and eased his way through the throng of dwarves towards the wizard. “Is this a good idea?”  
“Yes,” Gandalf answered flatly. “Now the rest of you, just wait here and don’t come out until I give the signal.”   
“Right, wait for the signal,” Bofur nodded and climbed onto a large windowsill looking out onto the fields where Beorn was presumably waiting.   
“And no sudden movements or loud noises and don’t overcrowd him,” Gandalf added.   
“Is this a bear or a giant badger?” Kíli chuckled.   
“And no smart comments,” Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow at the prince, looking thoroughly unamused. “Only come out in pairs – oh actually Bombur?” He turned to the fat dwarf who was nervously munching a raw carrot. “You count as two so you come out alone.”   
Bombur nodded and swallowed his mouthful of carrot with a glum look.   
“Remember, wait for the signal!” Gandalf told us before putting an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder and guiding him out of the house.   
“What signal would that be?” Bofur asked but Gandalf had already gone.   
“We’re going to be eaten,” Kíli muttered.   
“I don’t think I can run for another day,” I whispered, flexing the muscles in my shoulders. My back was starting to ache more than before and I knew that if I tried to run the scars would definitely split open again.   
“Do you need me to look at your back again, lass?” Óin asked, and the rest of the company looked at me in concern.   
“Maybe later,” I nodded. “Let’s just see how this goes.”   
“Morning!” Gandalf’s cheery voice sounded from outside, followed by a startled “Oh!” and another loud _CRACK!_   
“Morning?” he tried again and the wood-chopping seemed to stop.   
“Who are you?” A deep, raspy voice rumbled across the field and through the very walls like a soft thunder. I shivered slightly at the image of Beorn being conjured in my mind. _He must be huge…_  
“I am Gandalf,” Gandalf responded, still in his cheery tone. “Gandalf the Grey.”   
There was a short pause, before the thunder sounded again. “Never heard of him.”   
“I’m a wizard,” Gandalf said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of my colleague, Radagast the Brown? He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwood -”  
“What do you want?” Beorn was unmoved.   
“Well, simply to thank you for your hospitality. You may have noticed that we took refuge in your lodgings here last night and -”   
“Who is this little fellow?” Beorn suddenly demanded.   
“Ah, well this would be Mr. Baggins from The Shire.”   
There was a slight ring of metal as if someone had picked up a weapon.   
“He’s not a dwarf is he?”   
“He wishes,” Kíli sniggered.   
“Kíli, that’s enough!” Thorin hissed, visibly tense now.   
“No no,” Gandalf sounded almost amused. “He’s a hobbit. Good family and unimpeachable reputation,” he chuckled.   
“A halfling and a wizard…how come you here?”   
“Well, the fact is that we’ve had a bad time of it, thanks to goblins in the mountains -”  
“What did you go near goblins for?” Beorn scoffed. I couldn’t help but flinch at the sharp tone in his voice and I immediately felt Kíli’s hand lock around mine. “Stupid thing to do.”   
“You are absolutely right -”   
“There it is! Go!” Bofur whispered to us, nodding at the window. Thorin nodded to Dwalin and Balin and the two of them made their way out. The ringing of metal was heard again as they walked forward and stood straight and proud, like warriors still within our eyesight.   
“Dwalin and Balin,” Dwalin introduced them and Balin gave a cheery wave.   
“A-and,” Gandalf stuttered. “I must confess that - uh – several of our group are in fact dwarves.”   
“Do you call two several?” Beorn growled.   
“Well – eh – now you put it that way,” Gandalf was really struggling for words now.   
“Bofur!” I hissed. “Are you sure he gave the signal?” Bofur only responded with an embarrassed grimace.   
“I-it could be more than two…”   
“Oh that must be it!” Bofur whispered, waving the next pair through.   
“Right, that’s us!” Glóin said as he and Óin went out to join Balin and Dwalin, giving a bow to their host.   
“Ah, and here are some more of our happy troupe!” said Gandalf.  
“And do you call _six_ a troupe?” Beorn was starting to sound incredibly irritated. “What are you, a travelling circus?”  
Gandalf let out a nervous laugh.   
“Go!” Bofur waved and Dori and Ori were the next to leave. This time we all heard a distinct growl from Beorn, followed by Ori’s nervous laughter and Dori shakily introducing them.   
“Dori and Ori…eh, at your service.” Dori gave a low bow while Ori gave what I could only describe as an awkward curtsey.   
“I don’t want your service!” Beorn almost shouted.   
“Bofur, I am seriously questioning your signal detection!” I hissed but he only held a finger to his mouth to ‘shush’ me.   
“Absolutely understandable!” said Gandalf.   
“Go, go!” Bofur waved for the next pair to go and I felt Kíli press a soft kiss to my cheek before leaving with his brother.   
“Oh! Fíli and Kíli! I’d quite forgotten.” Gandalf let out another nervous laugh, clearly exasperated at the whole spectacle.   
“Right, the rest of you go now,” Thorin ordered and Bofur jumped down from the windowsill to shove Nori outside, joined by Bifur and Bombur. “Vana, you come out with me.”   
I nodded, suddenly extremely nervous at what I was walking into.   
“Ah yes,” Gandalf sighed, giving up his attempts to quell the situation. “Nori, Bofur, Bifur and Bombur.”  
“Is that it?” Beorn asked unnervingly quietly. “Are there any more?”   
I felt Thorin gently nudge me forward and we both slowly stepped out into the field.

Beorn truly was massive; almost twice Gandalf’s height. He wore only a pair of brown trousers and the sweat clung to his lightly tanned skin and accentuated the huge muscles in his arms and chest. He grasped an enormous wood-axe, the handle of which seemed to be the same height as Bilbo and he was eyeing the company with fierce eyes. His hair stuck up around his head in a mane of brown and grey and I could see it stretch down his back, along his spine. As impressive as he was, he was also extremely intimidating. He caught sight of Thorin and I and eyed us suspiciously for a moment before his face suddenly softened as his eyes fixed on me.   
“This one is not a dwarf,” he remarked, pointing the blade of the wood axe at me before resting it on the ground.   
“Ah, yes, this is Vana,” Gandalf indicated at me with a smile. “She’s a daughter of man, albeit a very small one.”   
I would have made a sarcastic remark back but I was growing very uncomfortable under Beorn’s gaze. The giant man took a single step towards me.   
“You are hurt. I can smell your blood.”   
I froze, unable to respond. Thorin took a protective step in front of me and I could feel the tension rising amongst the dwarves.   
“I’m afraid Vana was treated very poorly at the hands of the goblins. She was whipped badly and the scars on her back have likely begun to reopen.”   
“Why are they not stitched?” Beorn was still addressing me directly.   
“We didn’t have the materials needed.” Gandalf said. “I hate to intrude on your hospitality at all Beorn, but would you at least be willing to allow Vana some rest from her injuries?”   
Beorn turned to Gandalf, his gaze becoming dark again.   
“What were you thinking, taking a woman into a mountain full of goblins?” He growled fiercely before turning to the dwarves. “I thought the protection of their women was one of the few things dwarves did well?”   
The entire company became visibly angry, though they managed not to utter a word at Gandalf’s harsh look. Dwalin let out an audible growl which Beorn heard and returned, his hand twitching towards his axe again. His eyes found me again, however, and his expression softened once more. He took another step towards us and slowly knelt down on one knee, raising a large finger to beckon me over.   
“Come here, girl.”   
I swallowed hard, my legs threatening to give way under me. Gandalf, on the other hand, smiled and nodded for me to come closer. I took a deep breath and slowly edged my way around Thorin to walk up to Beorn. I stopped a few paces from him, unsure what to do.   
Beorn stared intently at me for a few moments before speaking softly.   
“You do not need to be afraid. You will stay, all of you. I will help your injury, and you can rest here until it heals.”   
“Th-thank you,” I managed to whisper, before Beorn stood quickly, making me stumble backwards.   
“We will talk more inside.” Beorn addressed all of us before propping his axe against the wall of his house and storming past us to go inside.


	2. Queer Lodgings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beorn offers his assistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE for descriptions of medical treatment.

_ Vana _

We sat around Beorn’s table as he served us breakfast. He was much calmer than before as he adorned a hide vest and put plates of bread and pots of honey in front of us. He then began to pour milk from a huge jug into each of our equally huge wooden cups, making his way around the table. I thanked him as he filled my cup but he only nodded in response. I went to pick up the cup and winced as my back bristled in protest.   
_A bloody cup of milk is hurting me._  
Kíli noticed and helped me raise the cup to my lips. I could only give him a sad smile in response.  
Thorin, who was the only one still standing, leant against a wooden post and watched the skin-changer as he passed. Beorn met his gaze as he poured milk into Fíli’s cup.   
“So you are the one they call Oakenshield,” Beorn said in a deep growl. “Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?”  
“You know of Azog?” Thorin looked up at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. “How?”  
“My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family but some he enslaved.”   
I glanced down and noticed the cuffs on his wrists, the chain rusted and broken. Each of us shuffled awkwardly as Beorn continued.   
“Not for work, you understand, but for _sport_ ,” he spat. “Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him.   
“There are others like you?” Bilbo asked.   
“Once there were many,” Beorn said sadly. My heart sank at his expression, lost and dejected.   
“A-and now?” Bilbo asked nervously.   
“Now there is only one.”  
A short and awkward silence ensued as Beorn placed the jug on the table and settled into a huge, intricately carved wooden chair next to the table. The headrest was carved into the shape of two bear heads, snarling angrily at us.   
“You need to reach the mountain, before the last days of autumn?” Beorn directed his question to Gandalf who was quietly smoking his pipe in the corner.   
“Before Durin’s day falls, yes,” Gandalf nodded.   
“You are running out of time.”   
“Which is why we must go through Mirkwood.”   
Beorn’s expression grew dark at Gandalf’s words.   
“A darkness lies upon that forest,” Beorn said and turned to address us all. “Fell things creep between those trees. I would not venture there, except in great need.”   
“We will take the Elven road,” said Gandalf. “That path is still safe.”   
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Thorin pointedly turn away.   
“Safe?” Beorn turned back to Gandalf. “The wood elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They’re less smart and more dangerous.” He turned to face Thorin, who was still standing with his back to us. “But it matters not.”   
Thorin turned at once to face him. “What do you mean?”   
“These lands are crawling with orcs,” Beorn snarled. “Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot with an injured woman. You will never reach the forest alive.”   
Kíli grew visibly tense next to me and I reached out to take his hand, my eyes never leaving Beorn. He regarded me for a moment before getting to his feet and taking a few steps towards Thorin, his face growing dark.   
“I don’t like dwarves. They’re greedy and blind.” He reached a massive hand down to scoop a mouse up from where Bofur had ushered it away from his arm onto the table. “Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own.”   
He held the tiny creature in his hand, gently stroking the top of its head with his thumb, before looking back to Thorin.   
“But orcs, I hate more. What do you need?”   
Thorin took a step towards Beorn, standing directly behind me.   
“Vana needs her injuries tended. We need food and supplies to take through Mirkwood. And I noticed you had some ponies outside. If the orcs are close, as you say, we will need to move fast towards the woodland.”   
Beorn considered for a moment before placing the mouse back on the table and turning to me.   
“I will take a look at your injuries first,” he said in a softer, gentler voice before turning back to Thorin. “Then you will take what you can carry from my stores. You will not harm my animals or take any more than you need. The ponies you may take until you reach the edge of the forest, and then you will let them return to me. Agreed?”   
“Agreed.” Thorin nodded.   
“Come,” Beorn gestured for me to stand, before pointing up to the loft. “You will be more comfortable in a bed. The healing process will not be pleasant.”   
I stood slowly, wincing as the movements sent sharp pains through my back. The wounds were definitely reopening. Kíli immediately went to help me up and Dwalin leapt to his feet.   
“We’re stayin’ with her,” he said to Beorn gruffly.   
“Very well,” Beorn muttered and went to one of his cupboards. “One of you fetch a bucket of water from the well.”   
“I’ll go,” Fíli said, practically running out of the door. I shook my head in embarrassment at all the fuss, pulling away from Kíli as he attempted to help me up the ladder.   
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “I can do it myself.”   
Kíli only nodded, dutifully taking a step back. I climbed the ladder into the loft, ignoring the stabbing pains in my back as best I could. Once I was up I stood in front of the huge bed and began to unbutton Kíli’s tunic, bracing myself for the pain of peeling it of my broken skin, once again. I heard a couple of embarrassed coughs from the company below me and blushed furiously as I began to peel the material off of my back. It hurt less than it had the last time, but still took me a few attempts. Once it was off, I clasped the material to my chest, trying to ignore the dry crust of blood coating the material. I heard a few startled gasps and muttering below me and turned to see the entire company staring at me with a mixture of sadness, shock and pity.    
`“Haven’t you ever seen scars before?” I snapped, my eyes flashing to Beorn, whose face was a blank canvas. He was holding two jars in his hands and staring at me with fierce, dark eyes. I swallowed hard and looked away, moving to lie face down on the bed. I heard Kíli and Dwalin climbing the ladder hurriedly and deliberately faced away from them. Kíli, however, simply moved around to the other side of the bed, kneeling down to face me.   
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his eyes wide with concern.   
“Simply fantastic,” I muttered. “You?”   
“I’m just fine,” he managed to smile at my sarcasm. He took one of my braids in between his fingers and began to toy with it.   
I felt the mattress sag next to me and turned to see Dwalin sitting on the bed.   
“I know this is awful lass,” he said, clearly doing his best not to look at my mutilated back. “But it’ll be over soon.”   
“Until they open up again,” I muttered. Dwalin blinked and shook his head.   
“We’ll find a way, lass,” he said gruffly. “There has to be a way.”   
Beorn then appeared, walking up the ladder with ease. His eyes remained fixed on me until he reached the top when he looked at Dwalin.   
“You, I need my needle and thread, in my cupboard over there.” He nodded towards the assigned cupboard and Dwalin, who was not used to being addressed in such a way, grudgingly obeyed. Beorn carefully took a seat on the bed next to me, his eyes fixed on my back.   
“I saw many wounds like this when I was with the orcs,” he muttered, though his deep voice made it almost impossible for everyone not to hear him. He placed one of the jars on the floor and unscrewed the lid off of the other. The sharp scent of the viscous substance in it attacked my senses and I recoiled from it instinctively.   
“What is that? It’s vile.”  
“It will kill any infection already in the blood and clean out the wounds. It will hurt, but the water your companion is bringing will help make it less painful.”   
_Pain. More pain, of course. There’s always more pain._ I groaned and buried my face in the pillow.   
“It’s alright love,” Kíli whispered, moving to sit on the bed next to me. “I’m right here.”   
“Aye lass,” Dwalin said, returning with the needle and thread. “We’re not goin’ anywhere.”  
“Got the water.” I looked up to see Fíli, climbing awkwardly up the ladder with one hand clutching a bucket of water that nearly reached the top of his legs in height. Below him, Óin was supporting the bottom of the bucket, following him. Beorn reached forward to take the bucket from him and set it down by his feet. He gestured to the drawer by the bed and requested that Fíli fetch him a towel.   
“Then you all must go. She does not need an audience.”   
“If you don’t mind, Vana,” Óin said, holding his crushed ear trumpet up. “I’d prefer to stay. I am a healer after all, and I’d rather know how you are being treated.”   
“It’s fine Óin,” I nodded.   
“I’m staying right here,” Kíli said determinedly, looking up at Beorn as if to silently challenge him.   
“As am I,” Dwalin growled.   
“You can all stay,” I mumbled, annoyed now. “Draw up a rota and send a messenger around the entire Wilderland if you like. Just get this over with, please.” I sighed and looked to Kíli who was leaning back against the headrest with his legs outstretched in front of him.   
“As you wish,” I heard Beorn growl behind me as he soaked the towel Fíli had brought him in the water and wrung it out. “Just stay out of my way.”   
“Take my hand,” Kíli said softly, reaching out for me. “Squeeze as tight as you want. I won’t break.”   
I smiled and reached out to grasp his forearm, just above his wrist. I didn’t want to risk crushing his hand. I then felt someone sit on the bed next to me.    
“Vana?” Fíli softly nudged my shoulder. “Have you seen the ponies outside?”   
“No,” I mumbled in response, wincing as the cold, wet cloth made contact with my back.   
“There’s a whole herd of them,” Fíli said cheerily. “Black and white ones. They’re gorgeous Vana.”   
“I might see them later, I’m a little preoccupied right now,” I managed to force out a chuckle.   
“It’ll be nice to be on a pony again,” Kíli added, before his eyes suddenly snapped up to Beorn. “With your permission of course.”   
“My ponies are wild. They stay at my home because I keep them safe. If they wish to let you ride them, you may.” He gently cleaned the wounds on my back with the cloth before replacing it in the bucket and softly dabbing portions of the sharp-smelling substance into my wounds. I gasped loudly as it bit into my broken skin, and cried out slightly when it began to seep into my blood, spreading around my entire body. It made me shiver horribly, like ice running through my veins. I gripped Kíli’s arm furiously and he squeezed mine back in reassurance, though I could feel him tremble.   
“What’re yeh doin’?” I heard Dwalin demand furiously, though my eyes were screwed shut against the pain.   
“It is fishing out any infected blood. It takes a few minutes.” Beorn responded in a flat voice, as if bored by the whole thing.   
“Is it supposed to hurt so much?” Óin asked. “What kind of substance is it?”   
“It is an Elvish ointment.” Beorn responded simply, and I heard Dwalin growl slightly at this revelation.   
“Elvish medicine has always been one of the best,” Óin reminded him.   
I barely listened as the slow-burning agony took over my entire body, all the way down to my toes. I blinked the tears it brought back furiously, determined not to appear any weaker than I must already, but I could feel a cool sheen of sweat start to coat my back, despite the fact that I felt as if I had been left out in a blizzard.   
“It is the infection,” Beorn explained. “The ointment causes your body to sweat it out. It seems to be confined to your back. This is good news.”   
Slowly, the icy burning began to cease and pull back until it was confined to only my back. My entire body felt numb after all that, and Kíli panicked as my hold on his arm slackened.   
“Vana? Are you alright?” His other hand moved to the side of my face, sweeping any loose hair from my forehead.   
“I’m s-still al-live,” I grumbled, horrified to notice my teeth were chattering.   
“How do you feel?” Fíli asked.   
“C-c-cold,” I muttered.   
“But she feels hot,” Kíli looked up at Beorn with concern. “Her head is burning up.”    
“It’s the effects of the ointment. It will pass.”   
“H-how long?” I asked.   
“At most, a few more hours.”  
I groaned and clenched my hand around Kíli’s arm once again.   
“I’m not going anywhere.” He stroked the hair around my ear. “You’ll get through this, you’ll get better and then maybe we can see if those ponies would like to go riding?” He grinned, clearly amused at the prospect of asking a pony’s permission before riding it. I managed to crack a smile in response, until I noticed Dwalin’s worried expression behind him.   
“H-how do I l-l-look?” I asked with a forced chuckle.   
“Like yeh’ve been in a battle, lass,” Dwalin answered with a forced smile. “The wounds…they look like they’re gettin’ better.”   
“You must tell me when the burning stops,” Beorn said, standing up from the bed. “Then I must stich the wounds.”  

It took another two hours before the burning finally let up. Beorn had left during this time, and Óin went with him to ask if he could take a small portion of the ointments. Fíli left after an hour with Kíli’s soiled tunic to update the rest of the company, who had gone outside to give me some privacy – or so they didn’t have to hear me cry and groan in pain as the ointment continued to burn.   
Kíli and Dwalin had stayed the entire time, never leaving my side. Kíli let me hang on to his arm, and Dwalin used the cloth to cool the burning skin on my back.

When the burning finally stopped he left to fetch Beorn while Kíli stayed with me. I had finally released his arm and he flexed the muscles on his forearm a few times.   
“I think you’ll leave bruises,” he chuckled.   
“Sorry,” I muttered with a grimace.   
“Don’t worry, it just means you’re still strong. Fancy a tiny human girl giving a strong dwarf like me bruises?” He winked as I scowled up at him.   
“That’s ‘tiny human _woman_ who is still taller than you’, big strong dwarf.”   
“Relatively small human woman who is barely taller than me but who I love anyway?”   
“That’s better,” I said with a chuckle.   
“Is that a smile I see?”   
“I always smile when you’re around.”   
“That’s because I’m so handsome and cheerful that merely looking at me causes people to feel joy.”   
“Is that what your mother told you?”   
“That’s what many women have told me.”   
“You’re hilarious.”   
“You love it.”   
“You love me.”   
“I do,” he grinned and gently stroked a hand over my hair. “Before we leave I should fix your braids.”   
“Kíli,” My voice faltered as I looked up at him. Even though I was half naked on a bed with what I could only imagine were open, bloody wounds all over my back – my back which only a couple of weeks ago he had stroked and kissed so lovingly and hungrily – he still looked at me just as he had when we made love in Rivendell.   
“Yes?” He smiled my favourite smile; the one in which I could see our two children running to him while he laughed in delight to see them.   
“Does this…” I nodded over my shoulder to my back. “…change anything.”   
Kíli’s smile faded as his eyes moved over my back. I saw his throat tighten as he suppressed the anger I could see boiling in his eyes. His beautiful, warm brown eyes were normally so calm and loving, but now they seethed and darkened as he silently observed my injuries.   
“Yes,” he eventually whispered before looking back to me, his expression utterly serious. “Now I’ve seen you hurt, I will try harder to make sure it never happens again. Now I’ve felt what it might feel to lose you, I know just how important it is that you don’t lose me either. I won’t allow anything to come between us, I promise.   
“Now you’ll have scars that remind you of what happened to you, and that’s going to be hard for you to live with. But I’ll be here to help you. And they will only ever remind me that you are tougher than Dwalin’s knuckledusters, and that you’re so unbelievably brave and stubborn that even the depravity of goblins and the wrath of orcs will not keep you from protecting the ones you love, even if it costs you. These scars will never make you appear ugly or weak in my eyes, if anything they just remind me of your beauty, both inside and out.”   
I stared at him. It was all I could do. I had no words. I felt like I should say something, anything to reciprocate the unexpected eloquent speech he had just given me. But I had nothing. I was speechless.   
So I stared at him with tears brimming in my eyes and he looked back at me with that smile again. My favourite smile.   
A loud cough brought us back to reality and we both turned to see Beorn waiting patiently on the ladder.   
“It’s time to get these wounds stitched,” he said gruffly, coming up to sit on the bed next to me again. Dwalin and Óin soon joined him and I could have sworn I saw the trace of a tear on Dwalin’s cheek, but I knew better than to ask.   
“First I need to clean the last of the ointment off the wounds,” Beorn told me, soaking the cloth in the bucket and wringing it out before addressing Óin. “You, the healer, would you get the needle and thread ready?”   
Óin nodded and moved to the other side of the bed where Dwalin had left the supplies.   
“When we are finished you may take a few needles and a little of my thread.” Beorn gently wiped the cold cloth down my back, carefully not applying too much pressure.   
“Thank you very much,” Oin said graciously as he began to clean the needle.   
I closed my eyes against the discomfort from the cold cloth against the tender skin around my wounds and waited silently for Beorn to finish. Once he had, I heard the splash of the cloth being dropped into the water.   
“I’m going to start stitching your wounds now. I will start with the smallest so you can get used to it.”   
I exhaled slowly, trying to will my body to relax, and nodded that I was ready. Kíli reached for my arm – with his other hand, I noted with a small smile - and I resumed my grip on him as Beorn pierced my skin with the needle. I couldn’t help but groan at the sharp pain that was soon followed by the discomfort of my skin being pulled together.   
He finished the smallest wound within ten minutes and tied off the thread, cutting it with a small knife. He then started on another and the whole process started again. I gritted my teeth against the pain as best I could, but occasionally I couldn’t help wincing or even letting out a small cry.   
It took the best part of another hour before he finally tied off the thread of the final wound. By this point my eyes were watering and spilling over slightly and my jaw hurt from how hard I had been clenching it. Kíli’s left arm was now covered in bruises as well.   
“Is it over now?” He asked Beorn in a hushed voice.   
“I have a balm to put on the wounds,” Beorn answered in a soft voice – or at least, as soft as his voice could go. “It will keep the skin from becoming inflamed and sooth any remaining discomfort.”   
“Will it hurt?” I asked, my voice cracking at the thought of any more pain.   
“It may sting a little, but no, it will not hurt.”   
I nodded and relaxed into the pillow. “I don’t normally fear pain. I’m just a little tired of its company.”   
For the first time, Beorn laughed. It was a deep, rumbling laugh, almost like a real bear trying to imitate a human laugh, but I found it strangely comforting picturing this giant skin-changer smiling down at me.   
“I know the feeling,” Beorn said, his voice taking on new warmth. “Do not fear. Your wounds will heal and the pain will not return, as long as you make sure to avoid goblins from now on.”   
“I think I can safely promise never to go near a goblin again,” I chuckled.


	3. The Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fair bit of dialogue here. But the good kind.

_ Kíli _

Kíli caught Dwalin’s eye and smiled at the sound of Vana’s laughter. Dwalin returned his smile and nodded at him as if in thanks. Caught up in the moment, he started slightly when Beorn caught his attention, holding out an open jar of a sweet-smelling balm.   
“You should do this,” he said softly. “It will ease her pain. That is something you need to do for her.”   
Kíli met the skin-changer’s fierce eyes, now humble and a little sad, Kíli noticed. He glanced at Vana, silently asking her permission and took the jar from Beorn only after she had nodded.   
“Thank you,” Kíli said to Beorn as he stood up to leave. “For everything.”   
Beorn nodded solemnly before turning to leave. As he got to the top of the ladder he turned briefly back to Kíli.   
“Do not let her go, dwarf. Do not let anything happen to her. You will never forgive yourself if you do.” With that, he walked back down the ladder and out of the house, leaving Kíli clutching the jar and staring down at Vana. She met his gaze, her eyes wide and tired from the morning’s events.   
“I’m alright, Kíli,” she said softly, doing her best to smile for him. “I’ll be fine. I’m tougher than Dwalin’s knuckledusters remember?”   
“I beg yer pardon?” Dwalin’s confused frown made Kíli relax and laugh a little.   
“That you are, love,” he grinned and dipped his fingers into the balm. It was strangely warm, and not at all sticky. He gently rubbed it into the raised ridges of the stitched skin and blushed as Vana let out a small moan that he had only ever heard back in Rivendell. He did his best to ignore it, refusing to look at Dwalin.   
“That feels nice,” Vana whispered.   
“Good,” Dwalin said softly, reaching over to stroke a finger over her cheek. “It’s over now lass. Yeh don’t have to worry about it anymore.”   
“No more pain?” she yawned.   
“No more pain,” he confirmed and Kíli smiled as he felt the muscles in her back relax under his hand. By the time he had coated her back in a generous amount of balm, Vana was fast asleep, her arms curled under her chest with her hands resting in small fists under her chin. Kíli screwed the lid back onto the jar and placed it on the floor by the bed.   
“We’d better leave her to sleep,” he whispered to Dwalin, who was draping a blanket from the foot of the bed over Vana.   
“I’ll stay for a little while,” he said softly, tucking the blanket around Vana’s shoulders before turning to face Kíli. “Thanks, for lookin’ after her so well. Yer a good and worthy dwarf, Kíli.” He held a hand out for Kíli, who stared at him for a moment before grasping the dwarf’s forearm.   
“I hope you know how much I love her Dwalin,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving those of the old warrior’s. “If I could bear those scars for her, I would do it in a heartbeat.”   
“I know,” Dwalin nodded, releasing his arm. “Yeh should go see yer uncle. He won’t admit it, but he’ll be needin’ some o’ that balm for his own wounds.”   
Kíli nodded and retrieved the balm, knowing he would never be able to convince his uncle to use it.

He found the others gathered outside the house where they had first spoken to Beorn. Bombur was exploring Beorn’s huge vegetable patch while Bofur and Bifur had sat down to a game of chess with pieces the size of their fists. Bifur let out a delighted cackle as he knocked Bofur’s taken horseman off of the board with a great deal more force than necessary.   
He found his uncle and brother resting under a tree, talking in hushed voices. Their expressions were stern resemblances of one another and Kíli knew they were talking about something serious – most likely something to do with the Mountain. He began to make his way over to them when he spotted Dori sitting in Beorn’s huge rocking chair with a large amount of white linen in his lap, cutting pieces away with his knife and sewing them with a large needle obviously borrowed from their host. Ori was sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him, writing notes around a small sketch he had drawn.   
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Kíli asked and approached them, peering into Ori’s book. The young scribe had drawn a simple design of what appeared to be women’s clothing.   
“It’s for Miss Vana,” Dori pointed out. “The skin-changer gave us this material. We thought she would appreciate some new clothes.”   
“Nori already cleaned her coat, and your tunic” Ori said, nervously pointing over to the fence surrounding one of the vegetable patches where the items were hanging to dry in the sun.   
“Can I see?” Kíli knelt next to him to have a closer look at Ori’s drawing.   
The shirt he had drawn was loose-fitting with a modestly high round collar and the sleeves were long and open around the wrists so they could be rolled up. Wrapped around the torso of the shirt was a corset that laced up at the back. Next to it Ori had drawn another schematic of the corset when it was open and written a list of possible materials next to it.   
_~~Leather?~~ Cotton? Wool? Linen – folded over and laced with string?_   
“Beorn doesn’t use any animal skins or eat any of their meat,” Ori pointed out. “He uses only what they can give him without harming them. It’s quite harmonious really.”   
“A corset, though Ori?”Kíli raised an eyebrow at the scribe’s blush.   
“It was Nori’s idea. She’ll need one now that she lost her –“  
“Yes!” Dori cut off his younger brother with a sharp nudge. “Ori, I think he understands.” He sent a sympathetic look to Kíli before going back to his sewing. “Once Beorn gets back with some wool for us we should get them finished by tomorrow.”   
“Thank you,” he grinned at them. “She’ll love it. I know she will.”   
Dori nodded in acknowledgement and Ori smiled shyly at Kíli as he stood to make his way over to Thorin and Fíli.   
Their serious conversation halted as soon as Kíli came within earshot.   
“Kíli,” Thorin called his name softly and made to stand up, wincing at his stiff muscles. Fíli immediately went to help him up only to be roughly shaken off by Thorin. “Vana? How is she?”  
“Beorn’s stitched her up. She’s asleep now but he says she’ll be alright. Dwalin sent me out with this, for your wounds.” He held up the jar of elvish balm. As he expected, Thorin shook his head with a sigh.   
“I’m fine -”   
“Uncle, just take the balm!” Fíli snapped, snatching the jar out of Kíli’s hands and brandishing it at their uncle. “You were a chew toy for a warg and you haven’t slept or eaten properly in days. Treat your injuries and stop being so stubborn!”   
Thorin glared at his older nephew with his mouth open slightly in surprise. Kíli gaped at his older brother – he had never spoken to their uncle like that before. In fact, no one except their mother had ever so much as raised their voice to him.   
Fíli met Thorin’s glare for a moment before Thorin sighed loudly and took the jar.   
“Would you like me to let you watch so you can be sure?”   
Fíli shook his head lightly and pointed over beyond the vegetable patch.   
“The well’s over there. There’s already a bucket there.”   
Thorin grunted and strode away towards the well.   
“What’s got your beard in a knot” Kíli asked his brother when Thorin was out of earshot.   
“He’s unbelievable,” Fíli muttered with a sigh – so similar to Thorin’s – and sank to the ground with his back to the tree. “He almost died. First, he nearly fell off a cliff, then he was almost beheaded by goblins, then he was chewed up by Azog’s warg, then he was almost beheaded again. Yet the only thing he’s worried about is us. He won’t admit it, but he’s afraid to look weak in front of us. He doesn’t seem to realise that he’s still our leader and our king, even when he’s no longer Thorin Oakenshield.”   
Kíli sighed and took a seat next to his brother, resting his head back against the smooth bark of the tree.   
“He’s scared that we won’t make it isn’t he?” Kíli asked softly. “Balin said that Azog wanted to wipe out the line of Durin. That’s why he’s hunting us.”   
Fíli didn’t reply at first, instead just stared at the ground between his legs. Kíli’s eyes followed Thorin over to the well where he was washing himself down, and then up to the house where he knew Vana lay sleeping.   
_If he wants to kill my family, he’ll come after Vana too,_ _and then there’s Âmad,_ he thought to himself with a pang of fear.   
“He won’t get to you, Kee,” Fíli assured him softly. “Not if I can help it.”   
Kíli looked to his brother who was gazing at him with fierce, protective eyes. He felt a rush of love for him at that moment but it was soon followed by the familiar wrench in the pit of his stomach – the one he had felt when Fíli had been separated from him in the thunder battle.   
“He won’t get to you either Fee,” Kíli reached out to grasp his brother’s arm. “If he finds us, we’ll kill him. And that’ll be the end of it. The line of Durin is not so easily broken.”   
Fíli smiled warmly at him and Kíli returned it, gripping his forearm that much more firmly.

_ Vana _

When I woke I was curled up on my front and my arms were slightly numb from being crushed underneath me. I rolled over onto my back, adjusting the blanket so it was covering my chest and looked out of the window. I guessed it was late afternoon. My hand brushed a soft material and sat up to see a white linen shirt neatly folded next to me.   
_Dori,_ I thought to myself with a smile and slipped the shirt over my head. _Of course it fits perfectly._ I chuckled and stretched my arms above my head. Then I paused, stretching my arms up as far as I could. I could feel the muscles in my back contracting, but there was no pain. There was stiffness and discomfort, but no pain. No sharp stabs, no blood running down my back, nothing.   
I let out a laugh and experimented with different positions, stretching my arms to the sides, rotating them around, flexing my spine back and forth. There was no more pain.   
“Enjoying yourself?” Thorin’s gruff voice came from my right and I turned to see him climbing the ladder up into the loft. He walked up to me with a grin and I was more than happy to return it.   
“My back doesn’t hurt anymore.” I declared.   
“I’m glad,” he said. “We’ll be staying tonight and tomorrow night so you must get some rest.”   
“I will, if you will,” I raised an eyebrow at the jar in his hand. “Is that my magic balm that I’ve now fallen in love with.”   
“You can thank Dwalin,” Thorin said, placing the jar on the table next to the bed. “He sent Kíli out to guilt me into using it and then came out himself to make sure I’d submitted.”   
“You were almost bitten in half,” I pointed out.   
“That’s what Fíli said. I believe he called me a ‘chew toy’.”   
I let out a small chuckle before the worry set in and my face turned serious. “How are you feeling?”   
“I’m perfectly alright, Vana,” Thorin said unconvincingly.   
“Say that again looking me in the eye.”   
His fierce, blue eyes met mine but they did not share the resolution in his voice. He stared at me for many long moments before taking a deep breath.   
“We need to talk.”   
I shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.   
“Vana,” he began. “You know I care for you. You’re Dwalin’s ward and you’ve been like a daughter to my sister. Fíli sees you as his own sister and I know how important you are to Kíli. If you and Kíli see this courtship to the end and marry, I would be overjoyed to call you my niece.   
“For years now I have regarded you, as a part of my family. Not only that but I’ve respected you as a brave and strong woman, and a noble fighter. I have never for a moment doubted your abilities in battle. Nor have I ever doubted your ability to survive and to protect this company. You are nothing less than an asset to me Vana, I hope you know that?”  
I was stunned; I had never heard Thorin express so many honest and heartfelt thoughts at the same time. It was slightly overwhelming.   
“I…thank you, Thorin,” I managed to stammer out eventually. “But, that night, before the trolls, you said you would send me back to the Blue Mountains…”  
Thorin’s eyes were suddenly filled with guilt and he lowered them to the floor.   
“I am sorry for my words. I was frustrated with the wizard. The truth is that I would have sent you back had I thought you would be too vulnerable out on the road, but you soon proved me wrong. When you saved Kíli from the warg, I remembered why I agreed to let you come in the first place.”   
“Warg bait?” I attempted to make a joke. His lips curled up for a moment before he shook his head.   
“No, because you are a brave and fierce fighter and you would do anything to protect my nephews. I’m just ashamed it took so long for me to realise that. I am truly, truly sorry Vana, for everything I’ve put you through.”   
“There’s no apology needed Thorin,” I reached out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. His eyes flicked up to mine at the gesture. “I understand. This quest is the most important any of us will likely ever embark on, and probably the most dangerous also. You can’t afford any weaknesses.”  
Thorin drew in a sharp breath at my last word, averting his eyes from mine again. I felt his arm tense under my hand and instantly removed it.   
“Thorin?”   
“I…” Thorin’s voice was barely audible as he glanced around the empty house, as if fearing that someone could hear. He then turned back to me.   
“You are loyal to me aren’t you Vana?”   
“Of course,” I nodded immediately, confused at this change in subject.   
“And you are loyal to my family? And our cause?”   
“Thorin, you know I am. Why are you asking?”   
“Because I need to know that there are people who will watch over them, should I fail.” His voice was hushed and ragged, as if he was finding it hard to breathe.   
“Thorin,” I held his gaze as best I could, speaking with as much authority as I could muster. “There is not one member of this company that would not lay down their life for you, that would not happily pay the ultimate price for you -”  
“I do not speak of my death,” Thorin hissed. “I speak of the gold in the mountain.”   
“The gold?” I frowned.   
“You know of my grandfather’s sickness?”   
“I know he had a sickness of the mind before the dragon attacked.” I nodded.   
“It was the gold. The Elves said it was cursed, that it would bring us only ruin. None of us listened, and for a while everything was fine. Then I noticed my grandfather was spending more and more time in the treasure chamber; he would visit it many times a day, sometimes staying in there for hours, just staring at the gold. Other times I found him holding coins and gems in his hands, looking at them as if he were in love, as if he worshipped them.   
“I tried on a few occasions to talk to him about it but I could never find the right words, so I chose to ignore it, I hoped it would pass. Then the dragon came. He destroyed the city of Dale before storming the mountain and I could only watch as he killed every member of my kin he could find. When I had managed to get my brother and sister to safety, I went back in for my father and grandfather.   
“I found my father easily enough, wounded but alive. My grandfather I found in the treasure chamber. The dragon was immersing itself in the gold, rolling around in it like a horse rolls in the grass. It was everywhere, like an angry sea engulfing the entire chamber in golden waves. My grandfather had run there with the Arkenstone, probably hoping to hide somewhere, or to die with his beloved gold, I do not know. He dropped it and it fell into the gold, and he was crawling towards it, towards the dragon. I had to drag him out of there myself.” His hands were shaking at the memory, his eyes glistening with the threat of long-suppressed tears.   
“Thorin,” I gripped his shoulder. “I’m sorry for what you went through. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”   
“Thank you,” Thorin nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Once we had ventured away from the mountain my grandfather returned to normal, at least mostly. Every so often I would see him stray into a deep thought, and that look would enter his eyes again and I knew he was thinking of gold. I overheard Lord Elrond in Rivendell talking to Gandalf. He said the madness runs in my family; that I may succumb to the same sickness that destroyed my grandfather. That I may become a monster, corrupted by greed, no better than Smaug…” He trailed off, his expression utterly distraught. I had never seen Thorin so vulnerable, and it frightened me a little.   
“Thorin…” My voice was barely above a whisper. I was torn between being touched that he would share such personal thoughts with me, and being terrified at the implications of his words.   
“Thorin, I understand what it feels like to fear weakness. I have feared it ever since that night in Ered Luin with those guards. It’s why I train so hard, why I wanted to come on this quest. I wanted to prove to you, Dwalin, the others and also myself, that I was not weak. Feeling as weak and defenceless as I did that night – I swore to myself I would never let myself feel that again.   
“You, however, you fear something that may never happen. We would never let you succumb to any kind of sickness. You just have to keep reminding yourself who you are doing this all for.”  
“Fíli and Kíli.” Thorin said automatically.   
“Exactly. You are giving them a kingdom. You are marching against a dragon so that your sister-sons will have their birthright, so that they will become princes and Fíli will become King under the Mountain. And you are doing this for the dwarves that lost their lives there, and the dwarves that lost their homes. You are winning back your homeland for your people. Does that sound like the actions of a man ruled by greed?”  
Thorin gazed at me, a small smile of wonder stretching over his lips.   
“Vana, you are truly one of a kind,” he whispered.   
“I know,” I shrugged and we both chuckled. “And you are a great king, Thorin.”   
“Thank you,” he smiled and caressed my cheek, bringing his forehead down on mine. I held my breath at the gesture. This was such an intimate sign that I suddenly felt the urge to cry. After a few moments Thorin pulled away, fixing me with a serious look.   
“Vana, will you promise me something?”   
“Of course, Thorin. Anything.”   
“I have no right to ask this of you. You have sworn me no oaths of loyalty, signed no contracts. You are here entirely of your own free will and you have every right to refuse.”   
“What would you ask of me?” I frowned.   
Thorin took a deep breath, his icy blue eyes never leaving mine.   
“Fíli and Kíli are my heirs. They will carry on the line of Durin after I am gone. They will rule Erebor and oversee the prosperity of the dwarves in the east. I am old now. I have seen my home ripped away from me and my people, and I will see it restored. I will see to the death of my enemies, those who killed my family. But then I fear my business in this world will be done.”   
“Thorin why are you telling me this?” I felt sick suddenly. _Is he telling me his final wishes? Am I to be a witness of his spoken will?_  
“Because Fíli and Kíli will not hear of it. Kíli refuses to believe that one day I will no longer be here, and Fíli is anxious of stepping into my title and my crown when it finally does happen. They love me as they did their own father, and I love them as my own. I know they would risk everything to save my life, and therein lies the problem.” He looked at me expectantly.   
“Fíli and Kíli have to survive.” I said thickly, finally understanding.   
“Fíli and Kíli have to survive.” Thorin nodded. “Vana, I want you to promise me that you will do everything in your power to ensure their survival. I know that I am giving you a near impossible task, but you are the only one in this company who I know loves my nephews as much as I do. And you’re one of the few people they actually listen to. You understand the importance of their survival more than anyone else. Please, Vana? Promise me you’ll protect them.”   
I found myself unable to speak as Galadriel’s words replayed in my head, and the images from her mirror flashed before my mind.   
_Fíli falling through the air – Kíli collapsing on the ground – the red haired elf weeping over his body – Thorin slumped on the ice – Bilbo’s sobs echoing down the hillside – the eagles flying overhead…Thorin sitting upon the throne, a raven crown upon his head, rising to greet his sister with a huge smile on his face – Fíli greeting the dwarves from Ered Luin who have come home after so long – Kíli wrapping his arms around a little black-haired girl, lifting her into his arms before a smaller black-haired boy runs up to him and grabs his leg, squealing excitedly as Kíli attempts to shake him off, laughing, his face split into that familiar wide grin…_  
“Vana?” Thorin’s voice brought me back to reality.   
“I…I’m sorry, I just…” I argued with myself mentally for a few moments. _Should I tell him? Maybe it’s better I keep it to myself? If Thorin knew could he help me find a way to prevent their deaths? Would it only put him under more stress?_  
“Vana, what is it?” Thorin asked, concern laced in his voice. __  
“I…I would never let them die.” The words came with such conviction that Thorin blinked in surprise. “I would give anything to make sure they live, I would give my life.” I raised my eyes to Thorin’s and clasped his hand in mine.  
“I promise you, Thorin, my king. I promise I will do everything in my power to protect them. They will live, even if it means I don’t. The line of Durin will not be broken, I swear it.”   
Thorin gripped my hands in his strong grasp, letting out a huge sigh of relief.   
“Thank you,” he smiled softly, his eyes closed to mask the tears welling up.   
“And Thorin?” I said, waiting for him to look at me again. When he did I met his gaze with fierce assurance. “You’re not going to die either. Not while I’m still breathing.”


	4. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I'M SO LATE! NZ wifi hates me :(
> 
> Just a smidgeon of fluff and smut and then it's back to the main story. I'm moving into the wilderness for a few days on Saturday so I'm putting this Sunday's chapter up now as well :)

_ Kíli _

There was a huge cheer from the company when they entered Beorn’s house to find Vana sitting at the table. Kíli made to go to her but found his way blocked as the entire company gathered around her. She laughed delightedly at them, accepting the hugs that were offered and thanking Dori for her shirt.   
Beorn returned early in the evening with wool he had gathered from the fields surrounding his house and gave them to Dori, who then had to explain their purpose to Vana, much to his discomfort and everyone else’s entertainment. Kíli watched as she laughed away any embarrassment and spoke animatedly with the Company. Beorn prepared a dinner of roasted vegetables, nuts and bread, which they all accepted, albeit while grudgingly ignoring the lack of meat, before informing them that he would be patrolling the borders of his land and that they should remain inside. Before he left he insisted that Vana sleep in the bed and, after a lot of convincing, she eventually accepted.   
However, during the night Kíli was woken by a warm body curling up against his.   
“Couldn’t sleep?” he whispered.   
“Missed you,” Vana muttered, nestling into his open arms. He wrapped them around her and stroked her hair whilst kissing the top of her head.   
“How is your back?”   
“Just fine. No pain, no blood, nothing.” He felt her lips press against his collarbone and suppressed a small moan.   
_It’s been a while since Rivendell…_  
He pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they appeared. He couldn’t, however, push away the feeling of her lips against his skin. Instead, he focused on his fingers running through her hair.   
“Tomorrow we should wash your hair,” he whispered.   
“’We’?” Her laugh vibrated against his chest.   
“Yes,” he grinned. “There’s a private spot outside, just behind the trees. I’ll wash your hair and comb it and then I’ll braid it.”   
“Sounds nice,” she murmured, on the cusp of sleep now. “Can I do your hair?”   
“Of course,” he pressed his lips to her temple. “For now you should sleep.”   
“Mm…” She was already out. Kíli continued to stroke her hair until he also fell asleep.

The following day was a perfect blend of the fading summer and the emerging autumn; a clear blue sky with the sun shining proudly over the pastures and forests, which were becoming a glorious mixture of colours. After a hearty breakfast and a wash by the well, Kíli and Vana left the others by the house and ventured into the small outcrop of trees behind. A small stream ran through there, the final relics of the icy waters coming down from the mountains, and the two lovers found a quiet, shaded spot beneath one of the great trees to rest.   
The wind blew through the branches in a series of soft whispers above their heads and Kíli watched the shadows of the leaves dance on Vana’s copper hair, making it shimmer and come to life. She giggled as his fingers grazed the back of her neck.   
“That’s not my hair,” she scolded.   
“I know,” Kíli grinned and swept her hair aside to press his lips against the skin. She hummed slightly and leant back against him. Her hand reached up to his, moving it from her shoulder around her waist. Kíli wrapped his arms around her and continued to press soft kisses against her neck, feeling the skin grow warm under his lips.   
“I’ve missed this,” he whispered, smiling as his breath on her skin made her shiver slightly.   
“Me too.”   
He glanced at her face and saw her eyes were closed, so he moved his kisses further up her neck, behind her ear and down to her jawbone.   
“Aren’t you supposed to be braiding my hair?” She sighed.   
“I can stop if you want,” he nibbled on her earlobe, causing her to let out a soft moan. He moved his hands to her hips, letting one hand stroke over her belly and the other slowly trace up her side and underneath her breasts.   
“Kíli…”   
The sound of his name on her lips made him want to kiss them until he could no longer breathe. He gently tilted his head over her shoulder, his hand under her chin to guide her face to his and soon they were kissing. For many long minutes they kissed, his hand holding her face to his while her hand moved to bury itself in his hair. She gently pulled on his hair as their tongues met and he groaned at the sensation, softly running his thumb over her breast. She moaned softly when he grazed her nipple and he grinned at both the sound and the fact that it was already hard.   
“Kíli,” she breathed and pulled away, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling expectantly. “Is this wise? Someone might catch us.”   
“It’s most definitely not wise,” he grinned cheekily and kissed her again. She kissed him back, turning her body to face his. “How’s your back?” he murmured against her lips.   
“Fine.”   
“Good.” He turned her gently, cradling her carefully in his arm as he leant her back, his lips pressing harder against hers. He felt her smile through the kiss and slip her hands under his shirt, cool against his heated skin. She traced the planes of his chest and dragged the tips of her fingers over his stomach, making him groan as the feeling shot straight to his core.   
He continued exploring her chest, cupping her breast in his other hand and kneading it softly with his fingers.   
“Kíli?” His name left her lips in a gasp. He pulled away, moving his lips to her neck so she could speak. “Does anyone else know we’re here?”   
“Yes,” he whispered as he pulled the neck of her shirt down lower to reach her collarbone.   
“Mm – are they going to come looking for us?”   
“No.” He grinned and kissed her again, slipping his hand beneath the hem of her shirt and lifting it. The sight of her bare breasts made him grow instantly harder and he wasted no time in taking one in his mouth, running his tongue over her nipple to make her moan softly. Her fingers dug into his back as he went, the pressure exhilarating him, making him desperate to go further. He moved over to her other breast, gently trapping her nipple between his teeth to make her gasp. Then his lips moved further down, almost of their own accord, over her belly and her hips. He felt it rise and fall rapidly as her breathing sped up and he couldn’t help smirking a little as his hands began to untie the front of her trousers.   
“Kíli?”   
He looked up to see her, breathless and flushed and a little nervous. She leant up on her elbows, her eyes wide with curiosity.   
“Is this alright?” He asked.   
“Yes,” she whispered. “You should take this off first.” She tugged his shirt up playfully.   
Kíli grinned and removed it before leaning in to kiss her again, slowly tracing his lips back down again, from her neck down her chest to her belly, kissing a small circle around her navel as he untied the laces of her trousers.   
He longed to be inside her but he needed to focus only on her for now; he wanted to enjoy their alone time as much as he could, and he wanted her to enjoy it even more. He looked back up at her, studying every detail of her face; her eyes darkened with desire, her flushed cheeks, her slightly parted lips. She was staring back at him, taking him in and he took the opportunity to slip a finger inside her, making her gasp. He marvelled, once again, at how warm she was; and wet and soft. She felt so small around him, but strong; her muscles alternating between stretching and squeezing. He slipped his finger slowly in and out, adding a second when she began to moan, which he quickly silenced with a kiss.   
“Might not want to draw attention to ourselves,” he whispered cheekily in her ear, though he himself was close to groaning in anticipation. He added a third finger and bit his lip to fight back a groan as he felt her clench around them. “Vana…” he breathed and mindlessly thrust his hardness against her thigh.   
“Kíli, make love to me,” she gasped, softly tugging on his hair.   
“No,” he grinned at her surprised expression. “I want to watch you.”   
Her green eyes were huge, looking up at him in a daze, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth in an effort to keep quiet and he fought the urge to kiss that lip hard, ravish it with his own teeth and tongue. Instead he looked deep into her eyes as she rocked her hips up against his hand. Only when he reached that spot deep inside of her did she break his gaze, arching her back and letting out a soft gasp. He pulled out a little and slid back in, his thumb playing with her clit, determined to hear more.   
Eventually he heard the one word he was so desperate for her to say.   
“Kíli…”   
For some reason – he had no idea what – the sound of his name escaping her lips in such an intimate way evoked a raw sense of passion in him. The intensity of it all was insane, and he never wanted it to end, but at the same time he needed her to find that release, that climax. He needed them to find it together. Their lovemaking was growing more heated, faster, harder, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck to muffle her soft cries. He could feel her body tensing as she came closer and closer to the edge until she threw her head back with a loud gasp as she fell over the edge. He held her close to him as she rode out her climax, his face pressed against her neck as he mouthed the words he longed to say to her against her neck. Only when she finally got their breath back and opened her eyes to look at him did he finally get a chance to say them properly.   
“I love you so much, my Vana,” he said softly, smiling at her.   
She gazed at him for a moment in wonder, her eyes positively glowing with the colours of the grass and leaves all combined. He could have gazed at them forever.   
“I love you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly and sweetly. “You know that, don’t you.”   
“I do,” he smiled, gently tucking her now slightly tangled hair behind her head.   
“And you know I’d never let anything happen to you.”   
He frowned at that. “I know you’re a formidable opponent, and that anyone who so much as thinks about crossing you is signing their own death warrant.” He grinned and nipped at the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “That’s better. I much prefer seeing you like this.”   
“Naked and messy?” She smirked.   
“Well, yes,” he winked. “But also happy and smiling. It’s my favourite sight.” He leaned in to kiss her again, this time letting it linger, carry on for a few beautiful minutes of soft, tentative touching. When he finally pulled away she was humming appreciatively.   
“Speaking of favourites,” she said softly. “I think I’ll put kissing you on my list.”  
“What’s on your list so far?” he grinned and lightly ran the tips of his fingers over her chest and down to her hips.   
She stiffened suddenly when his fingers touched her back and he frowned as she rolled away from him slightly.   
“Are you sure you’re alright?”   
“Mmhm,” she nodded determinedly but her eyes widened when he moved to touch her again.   
“Vana, I know you’re not. Tell me please?”   
She caught her lower lip between her teeth again, looking determinedly anywhere but at him.   
“Do you not want me to touch your back?” he asked softly, in a near whisper. Her eyes were closed now and she worried her lip harder as she shook her head once.   
“Fine,” he said with a small smile, moving his hand to her face instead. The contact of his fingers on her flushed cheek made her eyes open again, and his smile grew wider at the sight of those tiny green meadows. “That’s fine. But you know I don’t mind it?”   
“I know,” she nodded.   
“So,” he leant forward to press a soft kiss to her brow before resting his forehead against hers and continuing to trace his finger across her face, down her nose and along her chin. “How about that list?”  
“Hmm,” she closed her eyes at his touch but kept speaking. “Number one: singing. Number two: Bofur’s hat.” They both chuckled at that. “Number three: ponies. Number four: rain. Number five: Balin being spry -” She raised an eyebrow and he groaned in despair at the memory – “Number six: reaching the top of mountains. Number seven: our first night in Rivendell, and number eight: every time you kiss me.”   
“Your wish is my command.” He kissed her again and she smiled and murmured against his lips.   
“Careful, I might just remember that.”    
They kissed again until she pulled away slightly.   
“What about you?” she whispered, her hand wandering down towards his uncomfortably tight trousers. Gritting his teeth against the overwhelming sensation of her touch Kíli shook his head gently.   
“Don’t worry about me. I wanted to make you feel good.”   
“You did.” Her voice was deep and husky and it sent shivers down his spine as her hand gripped him gently. “I want to do you the same honour.”   
The small breeze came again, carrying with it the sound of brusque dwarvish laughter and causing the pair to spring apart, glancing around awkwardly for their audience. Nobody appeared however, but they were too close now.   
With a groan of despair, Kíli leant back against the tree once again while she settled herself back between his legs as she had before they got distracted, quickly lacing her trousers back together.   
“I believe you were braiding my hair,” she chuckled.   
“I was indeed,” he smirked and reached into his trouser pocket to retrieve his comb. “I think I have need of this again though.”   
“Your fault,” she muttered and his smirk only grew wider.   
“I make no apologies, my lady,” he whispered as he combed the new tangles out of her hair.   
“Of course you don’t.” She shook her head slightly but he knew she was smiling.   
He continued to comb her hair until it was flowing smoothly down her back once more. He then redid her courting braid, fastening it with his personal clasp, before redoing Dwalin’s braid and finally sweeping the rest of her hair into her favourite large braid down her right shoulder. When he was finished, they swapped places so he was now sitting in front of her and he handed her the comb so she could get to work on his hair. She braided the hair at the side of his face and pinned it back in place with his silver hair clasp, then continued running her fingers through the loose strands of hair, gently massaging the back of his head and neck. He leant back into it as she did so, moaning at the sensations coming from her fingertips.   
“Braiding your hair,” she whispered. “That’s number nine.”

_ Vana _

Kíli and I made our way back to the house as the sun began to set, remembering Beorn’s rule about being out after dark. When we arrived Dori was the first to greet us, holding out a neatly folded piece of clothing to me as he did.   
I unfolded it to see the woollen corset I had been promised. It had intertwined string around the sides to give it a shape and the back had been made to hold makeshift laces made from the string wrapped in left over linen to make it stronger. The wool had come from Beorn’s sheep which roamed wildly around his fields and were apparently brown, given the colour of the wool. I wrapped it gently around my torso, Kíli helping me with the laces at the back, and was pleasantly surprised at the support it gave me. It was much sturdier than it looked, thanks to Dori. To be safe I made a mental note to wear my knife belt higher around my waist. Over dinner, Thorin declared we would leave early the next morning as Durin’s day was getting closer and closer.

The next morning we were up at daybreak. I took a moment to bask in the glow of waking up with no back pain, smiling to myself and then at Kíli who grinned back and kissed me softly. We were then roused by Thorin who ordered everyone to pack up their things and meet outside. Beorn was already outside, having gathered his ponies, and was busy handing out tack. There were only eleven ponies as it turned out and so the lightest of us were told to pair up. I paired up with Kíli, while Ori rode with Dori and Bilbo rode with Gandalf on Beorn’s grey horse. Once the ponies were tacked up, Beorn held up three bows and three quivers, each with a few arrows in them.   
“I have these also, may they protect you. Who will take them?”   
“Kíli, Vana,” Thorin called us over. “You each take one. I will take the third.” We each took our bow and quiver, nodding to Beorn in thanks.   
As we mounted up, Beorn turned to walk into the trees around us, his head darting from side to side as if searching for a predator. Gandalf left Dwalin to hoist Bilbo onto the horse and went to speak with Beorn.   
“How is your back?” Kíli asked as I hoisted myself onto the pony.   
“I keep telling you, it’s fine,” I smiled and patted the pony’s neck. He gave a soft nicker in response. “More than fine, it’s great.”   
“No pain?” Kíli asked as he got up into the saddle behind me.   
“No pain,” I insisted.   
“You must tell me if there’s anything wrong,” his hand locked around my waist, pulling me against him gently.   
“Kíli,” I twisted round to face him. “See what I just did? I couldn’t do that two days ago. Now I can. I can also swing a sword over my head, and -” I reached back to pull the bow out of its quiver and pulled the string back as far as possible “- I can do this too.” I replaced the bow and turned to face him again. “So will you please just accept that my back is fine and worry about something else?”   
Kíli suddenly leant forward and planted a swift kiss on my lips. “I’m sorry, but I think I have a right to worry about you,” he grinned and tugged playfully on my courting braid. “Thanks to this.”   
“We have other things to worry about now,” I raised an eyebrow, only to jump slightly when the distant shrieks of orcs reached my ears. The rest of the company heard as well and instantly tensed. “Like that for example.”   
A little way behind us, Gandalf and Beorn were discussing something in hushed and serious voices. The nervous look on Gandalf’s face worried me and I placed a hand over Kíli’s.   
“Gandalf,” Thorin called to the wizard, nodding him back over. “Time is wasting.”   
Gandalf began to make his way over to us when Beorn caught his attention once again.   
“What do you think they’re talking about?” I asked Kíli who only shrugged in response. He was searching his surroundings, as if afraid the orcs would leap out of the trees.   
“We need to go,” he said softly. The howl of a warg echoed through the trees and Gandalf quickly went to mount his horse.   
“Go now,” Beorn ordered. “While you have the light. Your hunters are not far behind.”   
As soon as Gandalf was mounted behind Bilbo he spurred his horse into action and we each followed suit. I took control of the reins while Kíli held onto me. With the orcs not far behind us and the familiar chill spreading through me at the knowledge we were being chased, I was glad to have Kíli with me.

It was late afternoon by the time we reached the edge of the forest and the sky was growing dark with rain clouds. The ponies had been galloping for almost the entire time and were panting heavily when we finally stopped. I leaned forward to give our pony a well-deserved pat as Kíli dismounted. I soon followed and we began untying our packs from the saddle. As we did I glanced at the forest in front of us. The trees loomed above us in a dark, tangled mess, the bark appearing black and grey rather than brown. There were no leaves except on the top branches, creating a thick canopy above our heads that blocked out any remaining sunlight. It was overcrowded and stuffy and I could smell the musky, dampness of it from out here.   
“I don’t like the look of this,” I said to Kíli as we made our way towards the entrance where Gandalf was standing, peering into the forest. We dumped the gear in a pile behind him and began sorting through it, dividing out the supplies and fastening on our weapons. The trees had parted only to overshadow a narrow stone path that stretched into the shadows of the forest. A stone basin stood in the middle of the entrance that strongly resembled Galadriel’s mirror in Rivendell and I swallowed hard, attempting to block the visions from my thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about any of that. Gandalf slowly took a few steps into the entrance, peering around him in suspicion.   
“The Elven gate,” he muttered before turning back to us. “Here lies our path through Mirkwood.”   
“No sign of the orcs,” Dwalin said. “We have luck on our side.”   
“Let’s hope it stays there,” I murmured, slinging a string connected to a water skin over my shoulder.   
“Set the ponies loose,” Gandalf ordered. “Let them return to their master.”   
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, saddened at the prospect of losing more ponies. I hadn’t realised until this morning how much I truly missed Angus. I allowed myself to believe that he had found his way to Rivendell perhaps or was happily lounging in a meadow getting fat.   
“I’ll give you a hand,” Nori said with a smile and we set about loosening the saddles slightly and tying the reins in a knot so they wouldn’t tangle around their legs.   
“This forest feels sick,” I heard Bilbo say as he walked towards the entrance. “As if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around?”  
“Not unless we go two hundred miles north,” Gandalf said sadly. “Or twice that distance south.”   
“I’ve got the last two,” Nori told me and I thanked him before walking back over to the others.   
“Can I carry anything else?”   
“No, thank you lass,” said Glóin. “We’ve got everything.”   
“I don’t want yeh overdoing it,” Dwalin said with a small frown. “Yer still healin’, remember?”   
“No, I’d quite forgotten,” I muttered irritably. I turned to face Bilbo, who was standing rigidly, fiddling with the pocket of his waistcoat. He was staring into space but his expression seemed almost…angry. As if he was having a mental argument with someone.   
“Bilbo?” I called over to him, making him jump. He spun to face me, his fists clenched tightly. “Are you alright?”   
“Fine,” he nodded, lowering his hands and glancing back at the forest. “I just…I’m not sure about this forest.”   
I nodded, frowning at his demeanour. He was unusually skittish, even for Bilbo. I got distracted, however, by Gandalf marching with considerable speed out of the trees.   
“Not my horse!” he shouted to Nori, who was busy loosening the saddle. “I need it!”   
“You’re not leaving us?” Bilbo asked, his face a mix of fear and frustration.   
“I would not do this unless I had to,” Gandalf said with a sombre expression. He then paused to look down at Bilbo, speaking softly so I couldn’t hear.   
“He wants us to walk through there alone?” Kíli said with a gulp, staring at the tangled mess of a forest in front of us.   
“It’ll be alright,” I nodded, though I was barely able to convince myself let alone anyone else. “All we have to do is follow the path through the forest and out the other side, right?”   
I looked to Thorin, hoping for him to agree, but he only glared at Gandalf, who was still speaking softly with Bilbo.   
Then the rain began to fall in soft droplets. I smiled slightly at the refreshing coolness, as well as the grumblings of the dwarves. Then I noticed Gandalf moving towards us again.   
“I’ll be waiting for you at the Overlook,” he said. “Before the slopes of Erebor. Keep that map and key safe.” He paused in front of Thorin, addressing him directly. “Do not enter that mountain without me.”   
Thorin nodded and turned to face the rest of us as Gandalf mounted his horse once more.   
“This is not the Greenwood of old,” he told us as he gathered his reins. “There is a stream in the wood that carries a dark enchantment. Do not touch the water. Cross only by the stone bridge. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.”   
“Lead us astray?” Bilbo muttered and I caught his eye. “What does that mean?”   
“It means we’re about to walk into a forest that’s been poisoned with dark magic,” I said, unable to disguise the worry in my voice. Kíli heard and gently squeezed my hand.   
“You must stay on the path,” said Gandalf. “Do not leave it. If you do, you’ll never find it again.”   
Thorin gave him a final nod and began to walk towards the front of the group.   
“No matter what may come, stay on the path!” Gandalf called before turning his horse and galloping away.   
“Come on,” Thorin gestured for us to follow as he strode towards the entrance. “We must reach the Mountain, before the sun sets on Durin’s day.”   
“Let’s go,” Dwalin said and followed behind Thorin. Kíli let go of my hand but stayed beside me as we followed.   
“It’s our one chance to find the hidden door!” Thorin reminded us as he stepped onto the path and we filed into the forest.


	5. Is There No End To This Accursed Forest?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Won't lie, this chapter was extraordinary fun to write. Stoned dwarves, psychedelic forest, strange things happening in general...

_ Vana _

The heavy canopy of dank leaves and branches sheltered us from the rain, but at the same time it trapped the heat and air beneath it, making the forest incredibly stuffy. It soon became very hot, but Thorin was adamant that we keep moving – the sooner we were out of this forest the better. On this everyone agreed. The whole place was dark and claustrophobic, and the path bent around the trees in an irregular pattern, as if it was deliberately trying to confuse us. It was obvious that it hadn’t been used in a long time as it was covered in a mulch of dead leaves and moss, meaning that Thorin had to resort to tapping the ground before him with an axe to find where the stones led.  
“The path turns this way,” he said and we followed single file. I walked behind Dwalin and in front of Kíli, trying not to look at the surroundings too much. The trees were bent and twisted into the most unnatural of shapes and the ground around their roots was littered with strangely coloured fungi. The forest seemed to be both dead and alive, with clearly no ability to support any natural life, but at the same time I could not shake the feeling that we were being watched or that the forest was toying with us. A few times I swore I could hear the branches creaking above us.  
Deeper and deeper we followed the path into the forest, night falling around us and plunging us into further darkness. Still, we followed the path, Dwalin and Thorin taking turns to find the direction of the stones. The further we went, the closer the air became and the harder it became to concentrate on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other.   
“Air,” Bofur gasped. “I need air!”   
“My head,” moaned Óin. “It’s swimming!”   
“Don’t look around,” I offered, though I was having a hard time focusing myself. “Just keep your eye on whoever’s in front of you.” I blinked hard to try and follow my own advice, focusing on Dwalin in front of me.   
Eventually the night dragged on and we were almost in total darkness.   
“We can’t go on like this,” Thorin admitted. “We’ll stay here tonight. Everyone make sure to stay close to someone. Do not leave the path, we’ll start again at daybreak. “Nori, Bifur, take the first watch. Wake me and Fíli when you get tired.”   
“I’m already tired,” I heard Nori mutter. “My eyes feel so heavy…”   
“Vana?” I heard Kíli’s voice in the darkness.   
“Over here,” I reached out a hand, feeling around until my fingers found the thick material of someone’s sleeve.   
“Lass,” I heard Óin’s voice. “That would be me.”   
“I’m sorry Óin,” I muttered, letting go of his sleeve and feeling around again.   
“Vana?” Kíli’s voice sounded again and I felt a hand on my shoulder.   
“Yes, I’m here.” I sighed in relief and grabbed his hand in my own. He guided me to the side slightly before I felt him sit down. I reached out blindly and felt a tree. The bark was rough under my hands, but weak and gave way easily. I scraped my fingers over it until I found Kíli’s shoulder. I settled down next to him and he draped an arm around my shoulders. I leant against his chest and closed my eyes, trying to block out the creaking and rustling of the trees around me.   
“Do you hear that?” I asked softly.   
“Yes,” came Kíli’s hushed reply and he tightened his hold around me. “I’m sure we’ll be out of here soon.”   
I nodded and nestled closer to him, slipping in and out of sleep all through the night.

Thorin woke us as soon as light began to break through whatever spaces it could find between the trees and before long we were moving again. We munched on some of Beorn’s honey cakes as we went, trying to wake ourselves up against the heavy air of the forest. We followed the path until we came to a river. Kíli immediately turned to the others.   
“We found the bridge!” he called, his voice laced with fatigue.  
“Bridge,” Bofur stated in disbelief, jogging forwards to see for himself. I peered around him and sighed as I saw the glaring gap between both sides of the stone bridge. It was too far to jump.   
“Well this complicates things,” I muttered, peering at the water. It was utterly still, and dark though I couldn’t tell if it was because it was deep or if it was swimming with some kind of dark substance. The surface was laden with pale, sick looking weeds.   
“We could try and swim it?” Bofur suggested.   
“Didn’t you hear what Gandalf said?” Thorin said impatiently. “A dark magic lies upon this forest. The waters of this stream are enchanted.”   
“Doesn’t look very enchanting to me.”   
“Contaminated more like,” I frowned, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.   
“We must find another way across,” said Thorin.   
“These vines look strong enough,” said Kíli and I turned to see him perched precariously on a trunk stretching over the river.   
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded as he went to step onto one of the vines.   
“Kíli!” Thorin’s tone made him stop instantly. “We send the lightest first.” At this the company turned to Bilbo, who frowned at them and opened his mouth to protest before thinking better of it, his shoulders sagging in defeat.   
“I’ll go,” I offered. “I can’t be much heavier than you.”    
“No, no, I’ll go first.” Bilbo shook his head at me.   
“Vana, you’ll follow him.” Thorin ordered and I nodded.   
Bilbo slowly made his way onto the vines, stepping forward slowly and grasping at the vines above his head, trying to find a secure hold. They shook horribly as he moved, making the same creaking noise I’d been hearing all of yesterday from the branches.  
“It’s alright,” Bilbo said to us as he shuffled across, steadying himself relatively easily on the swaying vine. “Can’t see any problem – uuh!”   
He suddenly slipped, locking his legs around the vine as he slipped around, now hanging upside down directly above the dark river.   
“There’s one,” he muttered. He hoisted himself up and grabbed at a vine lower down, tightening his grip before swinging his legs down onto it. He then leant forward to grab the next vine, but his weight forced it forward, leaving him lying horizontally above the water.  
He hung there for a few moments, staring down at the river and I could see his body starting to sag.   
“He’s going to fall in,” I muttered before stepping quickly onto the vine and making my way towards him, ignoring the protests from the company.   
“Be careful!” Kíli called to me.   
I managed to make it across the first vine and carefully manoeuvred myself onto the next. I then reached out and grabbed the vine Bilbo was holding onto and then wrapped my legs securely around it. I shimmied my way down to Bilbo and gripped his wrist in one of my hands. This seemed to shake him out of his stupor and his head whipped up to look at me in confusion.   
“Strange place for a nap Master Burglar,” I grinned and pulled him up towards me. He managed to get a better hold on the vine and step onto it so he was standing with me.   
“Thank you,” he whispered, looking for his next foothold.   
“Any time,” I murmured. “Now will you please get off this thing so I can follow?”   
He nodded and stretched his leg out towards the next vine, securing his foot onto it before reaching out with his hand. He managed to put his weight on it and then move onto the next one before leaping onto the other side, landing heavily with a grunt.   
“You okay?” I asked, managing to stand properly on my vine.   
Bilbo’s face contorted in a kind of agonised confusion and he pointed at the vines. “Something’s not right,” he murmured. “This is not right at all. Stay where you are!” He turned to face back towards the company and his face fell in a defeated ‘oh’.   
I turned looked over my shoulder to see all thirteen dwarves clambering clumsily over the vines. I groaned and followed Bilbo’s route to the other side, leaping gracelessly onto the ground with a thump. As I did so my head began to swim, distorting my vision and causing a brief, dull ache to build at the front of my head.   
“I see what you mean,” I muttered.  I slowly got to my feet and watched as the dwarves made their way across, dangling uselessly from vines and shuffling across like large, heavily laden sloths.   
“I can’t get a grip,” Dwalin complained while Bofur leapt from a branch above him to a vine where he swung helplessly until he could find another to move onto. Next to me, Bilbo was slapping his own face as if trying to wake himself up.   
“Bilbo,” I leant down to tug on his arm. “You’re too close to the water, come on,” I managed to drag him a few inches away before he seemed to realise what I was doing and tried to get to his feet. On the vines closest to our side I could see Bombur yawn heavily, struggling to keep a grip.   
“Bombur!” I called his name sharply but he either didn’t hear or ignored me as he leant backwards onto a vine and began to snore.   
With a heavy thud, Thorin landed next to me, bow in hand, glancing around us as if expecting an attack. He glanced at me trying to haul Bilbo to his feet before his eye caught something else. I followed his gaze and thought I must have been hallucinating.   
A white stag bounded into view, gracefully trotting a little way in front of us before pausing to stare at us. It was beautiful, gazing at us with intense, dark eyes and standing proudly with its head held high, almost regally so. Bilbo eventually got to his feet, his eyes fixed on the creature, until we heard the soft pull of a bow string. We both turned to find Thorin, gazing intently at the stag, an arrow notched in his bow as he drew the string back to his chest.   
“What are you doing?” Bilbo mumbled but Thorin ignored him, his eyes never leaving the stag. The stag only stared back at him, as if challenging him and Thorin quickly took aim and fired. He missed and the stag bounded away, disappearing into the trees.   
“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Bilbo. “It’s bad luck.”   
“I don’t believe in luck, Thorin hissed. “We make our own luck.”   
I turned to face him but my eye was caught by the sleeping form of Bombur who was slowly veering sideways.   
“Bombur, no!” I shouted and leapt down to the water’s edge as he fell with a loud splash into the river.   
I gasped as the water hit my skin, some of it flying into my mouth and eyes. It stung a little and was strangely warm, and it left a taste in my mouth like rotting fruit. I gagged and leant forward to reach Bombur, who was still sound asleep on the river’s surface.   
“Help me get him out!” I called to the others and Fíli, who had reached the other side by now, and Thorin both helped me pull him to shore. As the others reached our side of the river, Thorin ordered them to find flat, dry pieces of wood and to get out some rope. We managed to find enough wood to make a decent enough stretcher and the company each took shifts, four at a time, in carrying Bombur. It looked like he would be out for some time.

Hours later, Bombur was still snoring peacefully on his stretcher, meanwhile the rest of us were stumbling along, trying to resist the heavy weight of the air around us. I could feel the fatigue spreading through my veins and into my very bones. Three times my feet gave up on me and I stumbled to the ground, barely able to keep my eyes open. The third time, it was Nori who pulled me to my feet.   
“We need…to take a rest,” he gasped, barely able to support my weight.   
“’m fine,” I mumbled, trying to restore the function to my legs, but they just did not want to stand. “Just need to get home, the wagon’ll be leaving soon…”   
“What you saying?” Nori peered at me, confused. I shook my head and made to sit on a fallen log.   
By now everyone had stopped, panting heavily and supporting themselves on nearby branches and vines.   
“Óin?” I managed to spot the ear trumpet in the fuzzy blur that was taking over my vision. I blinked hard but it didn’t help. “Why are you purple?”   
“Lass,” Óin’s voice was heavy with fatigue and concern. “Are you feeling alright?”   
“I fell from my tree, but it’s fine, it’s that time of year…”  
“Vana?” Bilbo’s face came into view as he sat next to me. “Do you know what you’re saying?”   
I stared at him as his hair began to turn green. His face went slack as he turned away from me to stare into the trees.   
“What is that?” he whispered.   
“What?” Ori asked, swaying slightly.   
“Those voices. Can you hear them?”   
“The trees!” I leapt to my feet, gazing excitedly around me. _The trees are awake. The show’s about to start._ “The trees, they’re telling us something.”   
“I don’t…don’t think it’s the trees,” Bilbo shook his head slightly.   
“I hear nothing,” Thorin muttered. “No wind, no birds. What hour is it?” He leant his head back to search for the sky.   
“I do not know,” came Dwalin’s grumble. “I do not even know what day it is.”  
“They used to dance. They’re going to dance again. Just for us.” I started to laugh.   
“Vana?” Kíli’s voice sounded from somewhere but I couldn’t see him. “What are you talking about?”   
“I think the forest is getting to her,” Nori said, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, as if about to be sick.   
“Vana!” Thorin appeared in front of me gripping my shoulders hard. “Snap out of it! Come on,” He went to pull me forward but stumbled slightly and let go of me to steady himself, grabbing hold of a vine. “This is taking too long. Is there no end to this accursed forest?”   
“None that I can see,” Glóin said, his voice shaky with panic. “Only trees and more trees!”   
Thorin gazed around him before catching sight of something. For a few moments he stared directly ahead of him before muttering “There…this way!”   
He grabbed hold of my arm and began shoving his way through the group. I stumbled along behind him, still looking for the dancing trees.   
“But Gandalf said -” Óin began to protest until Thorin cut him off.  
“Do as I say! Follow me!”   
I stumbled along behind him, shaking my head as various voices started to fill it.   
_“Wait!”  
“Dinner’s ready!”  
Attercop. Attercop.  
“You need to hide!”    
“Look at the flowers, little one.”  
Attercop. Attercop.  
“We must stay on the path!”   
“Just look at the flowers.”   
_ “No, no…” I shook my head. “The others don’t like the flowers. They don’t like magic…”   
“Vana!” Kíli caught up from behind me. “What are you talking about?”   
“They won’t play with me if I show them the magic flowers,” I protested.   
“Magic flowers?” Kíli peered at me, in confusion.  
_It’s perfectly simple! The locals don’t like magic. They think it’s bad luck. And I’ve been so lonely.  
_ “Vana, do you know where you are?”   
I glanced around at the unfamiliar setting. _These woods are too dark. And there are no flowers._  
“Do you know who I am?”   
I looked back to the boy talking to me and smiled.   
“Do you think if we ask nicely,” I said with excitement. “Mam will let us have those muffins for breakfast?”   
“What?”   
“The blueberry ones?” I giggled. “She always makes the best muffins.”   
“Vana, look at me!”   
I blinked and Kíli was in front of me again. “Kíli, can we stop soon? I’m so tired.”   
“We have to keep moving!” Thorin shouted from the front. “Nori, what’s happened? Why have we stopped?”   
“The path,” said Nori. “It’s disappeared.”   
“What’s going on?” Bofur called from behind us.   
“We’ve lost the path!”   
“Find it!” Thorin ordered us. “All of you, look!”   
“We lost the path?” Fíli asked, still supporting part of Bombur’s stretcher.   
“Well it can’t have gotten far,” I smiled cheerily. “Where was the last place you saw it?” I began to hum to myself.   
“What’s wrong with her?”   
“I’ve no idea…”   
“I don’t remember this bit,” Balin grumbled. “None of it’s familiar.”   
“It’s got to be here!” cried Dori. “It can’t have just disappeared!”   
“Unless someone’s moved it,” Dwalin muttered.   
“It’s not over here neither!” Ori called.   
“Double back!” Thorin ordered, elbowing his way through us again. The force of it made me stumble into a root and fall on my back. I shook my head to try and knock myself out of the daze.   
“Vana, come on,” Kíli took hold of my upper arms and pulled me to my feet.   
“Da doesn’t like when I go into the woods,” I muttered as he slung one of my arms around his shoulders. My head lolled against his chest as he walked us both forward.    
“We need to get out of here!” Kíli called over the grumbling dwarves, his words slurring together. “We can’t take much more of this!”   
“Wait,” Ori stopped suddenly, bending down to pick something up. “Look,” he held it up and Dori took it to inspect it.   
“A tobacco pouch,” he observed before looking around him. “There’s dwarves in these woods.”   
“Dwarves from the Blue Mountains no less,” Bofur weighed in, taking the tobacco pouch in his hand. “This is exactly the same as mine.”   
“Because it is yours,” Bilbo snapped. “Do you understand? We’re going round in circles, we are lost!”   
“We are not lost,” Thorin barked. “We keep heading east.”   
“But which way is east?” Óin despaired. “We’ve lost the sun.”   
“I thought yeh were the expert,” Dwalin growled.   
“My eyes can’t see any more than yours can!” Óin retorted.   
“Why don’t you ask the ravens again?” Nori asked rhetorically.   
“Do you have any ideas?” Glóin demanded angrily, shoving Nori.   
“Careful!” Dori went to reprimand Glóin, only to be shoved into Kíli, causing him to stumble and drop me to the ground. I landed heavily on my side and managed to pull myself back into a sitting position as the dwarves started clamouring and fighting. The sounds of their bickering were drowned out as my heart hammered wildly inside my head, as if trying to pound an escape route from my skull. I groaned and rested my head in my hands, trying to make it stop. In amongst the beats I could make out soft, sharp whispers, though I couldn’t make out what they were trying to say. All around me the dwarves were shouting and shoving each other until Thorin, who had been standing utterly still until now, whipped around to shout over them.   
“Enough! Quiet! All of you!” He regarded them all with a dark look before adding in a hushed whisper “We’re being watched.”   
My head would not stop pounding and my moans caught the company’s attention.   
“Vana?” Kíli knelt in front of me, trying to pry my hands from my head. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  
“Attercop,” I whispered, echoing the voices. “Attercop.”   
“What?”   
A loud yelp caught our attention and the company spun round to find the source.   
“Bombur?”  
“Where’s he gone?”   
Another loud cry and the company began to stumble around.  
“Balin!”   
“What’s going on?”   
“Arm yourselves!”   
Another yell for help.   
“Ori!”   
Then a sharp pain pierced my side and another in the back of my neck and I barely had time to let out a gasp before everything went black. 


	6. Spiders vs Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So due to a turn in NZ weather (which as it turns out is almost as tempermental as Scottish weather) my trip into the wilds has been suspended until next weekend. In my unexpected presence, please have another chapter :) It's a little shorter but it should do.  
> The title is fairly self-explanatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE: flashbacks, descriptions of sickness

_ Vana _

My eyes fluttered open to see white; lots and lots of white. I went to rub my eyes but my hands wouldn’t move. They were stuck to something. I blinked furiously and began to breath hard when I realised I was wrapped in something. It was warm and incredibly sticky, and on top of that I felt horribly sick.   
“You all right there Bofur?” I heard Glóin from somewhere next to me.   
“Aye,” came the response. “Balin?”   
“I’m all right!”   
“Get it off me!” Thorin shouted.   
I struggled furiously, trying to break my hands free first. I managed to free my left hand and tore at the substance coating my entire body.   
“Help me!” My shout came out as a dry gasp and my throat felt like it had been lined with shards of glass. My stomach was coiled in a tight knot, eliciting short, sharp pains whenever I twisted my body. I tried to call out again, but could only manage a small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a moan.   
“Vana?” Ori’s voice sounded above me and I could feel hands tearing at the material encasing me. He freed my other hand first and then removed in from my face and neck. I managed to shake the rest of it free and sit up, though that action made me feel like I really would throw up.   
“You alright?” Ori asked, removing traces of the stuff from his hair.   
“I feel sick,” I murmured.   
“Where’s Bilbo?” I heard Bofur ask.   
“I’m up he-AAH!”   
My head jerked up, my nausea all but forgotten. “Was that Bilbo?” I managed to stumble to my feet. I could see the rest of the company, similarly freeing themselves from the… _webs?_ I spotted Kíli and went to run to him, before the cramping came back and made me retch.   
“Incoming!” He alerted us and I looked up to see a dozen giant spiders scuttling towards us at ferocious speed.   
I immediately reacted, pulling my sticky bow out of the quiver on my back and nocking an arrow. I shot the nearest spider in the eye and Kíli shot the one next to it but they were coming too fast.   
“Run!” Thorin ordered and we obeyed, drawing our weapons as we went. I clutched Ringil in one hand and grabbed Kíli with the other, sprinting after the company. We were too slow and it wasn’t long before they surrounded us. Dwalin attacked first, hacking the legs off one with his axe. Thorin leapt at another, swinging Orcrist down on top of its head. Kíli and I attacked one together, slashing at its legs and face.   
“Spiders?” I shouted as I buried Ringil into its eye socket. “Giant spiders! Seriously?!”   
“Where’s the wizard when you need him?!” Kíli called back, hacking at the front legs of another spider.   
Just then, a spider leapt over our heads from the tree above us, knocking Bombur to the ground and pinning him underneath it. He grabbed hold of the spider’s pincers and struggled with it until various members of the company came to his aid, each taking one of the spider’s legs and pulling hard, until they all snapped off with a sickening crunch and the spider crumpled lifelessly on top of the cook.   
I spun around at the loud hiss beside me and blocked the pincers in front of my face with my sword. The weight of the spider pushed me to the ground but was suddenly gone when Dwalin leapt at it from the side, burying his axe in the top of its head. Meanwhile, Ori was being chased by two others.   
“Thorin!” Dwalin yelled, trying to yank his axe from the spider. “Get them!”   
Thorin ran to Ori’s aid, along with Kíli who hacked the legs of the first while Thorin slashed the face of the second.   
I ran to help Kíli, stabbing the spider in the stomach when it raised itself up to bite him. Kíli was then grabbed from behind by another and it locked its legs around his chest.   
“KÍLI!”  
I desperately hacked at the spider’s legs while Fíli came up behind it to stab it in the back. The spider loosened its hold and Kíli managed to spin around and stab it through the roof of its open mouth.   
“Go!” He shouted at me and we ran to the rest of the company who were making their way through the trees.   
“Come on!” Dwalin called back to us, taking my arm to pull me along in front of him. “Keep up!”   
“We’re clear!” Thorin called before a spider dropped in front of him. He readied his sword, but a rustle from the trees above caught his attention. I followed his gaze and saw something running along the branches above our heads. As it got closer it appeared to be a man with long, silvery blonde hair. He grabbed hold of a web strand, swinging himself down and landing on top of a spider with a grunt. He then leapt from the first spider and slid under the second with unbelievable grace, slicing its belly open with a knife, before leaping to his feet, his dagger replaced with a nocked bow and arrow in the blink of an eye.   
His eyes were an impossibly bright blue and I noticed the defined points of his ears sticking out from under his straight hair. Within seconds we were surrounded by more of them, each with a nocked bow, ready to fire. The rest of them, I noticed, had light brown or red hair.  
_Wood elves._      
“Do not think I won’t kill you dwarf,” he sneered, pulling his bow string taught. “It would be my pleasure.”   
_Less wise, more dangerous._  
Thorin bristled at the Elf towering above him, lowering his sword with a glare.  I felt Dwalin pull me closer to him, growling at the Elves.   
“Help!”   
Kíli’s cry made me whip round. I hadn’t even noticed he was missing, and now I couldn’t see him.   
“Kíli!” Fíli shouted and made to run to his brother, but the Elves nearest him only blocked his path. I followed his gaze and saw Kíli, pinned to the ground by one of the spiders which was now trying to drag him along the ground while two more closed in.   
“No!” I tried to wrestle out of Dwalin’s grip but he held on.   
A flash of red swept down from the trees and suddenly the spider nearest Kíli was being stabbed in the head by an Elf-maid. She moved impossibly fast as she wrenched the dagger from the first spider and spun to kill the next one, replacing her daggers with her bow to shoot the spider holding Kíli.   
Kíli got to his feet, turning to his saviour in surprise. She had already turned to the spider behind her but another was rapidly approaching Kíli. I could feel my heart trying to beat right out of my chest as he called desperately to the Elf-maid.   
“Throw me a dagger! Quick!”   
She was blocking the spiders’ attacks with her bow as she reached for one of her daggers. “If you think I am giving you a weapon, dwarf,” she spat. “You are mistaken!” With that, she sliced the spider’s throat and threw the dagger into the final spider’s eye all in one single movement and I could see Kíli looking at her with a mixture of awe and fear.   
She took him by the shoulder and shoved him roughly in front of her, leading him back towards us.   
My heart was still beating rapidly as he approached us, looking slightly sheepish as we all watched him. He caught sight of me and came towards me, nodding that he was alright. I tried to smile back but I was finding it hard to breathe. My chest felt like it was constricting and my breathing was only coming harder and faster.   
“Lass, it’s alright,” Dwalin said, releasing his hold me slightly, but keeping his hand on my arm. I shook my head as my stomach knotted in pain and I vomited horribly all over the ground by his feet.   
“Vana!” Kíli sprinted forward, to catch me as I fell forward. “What’s wrong?”   
“What is this?” The blonde haired elf crept around us, keeping his distance as I dry-heaved, having emptied the entire content of my stomach. “They have a human prisoner?”   
“She’s no prisoner!” Dwalin growled furiously at the elf as he moved protectively in front of me.   
“Vana, look at me, please?” Kíli begged me softly but I could barely hear him. My heartbeat was roaring in my head and my chest felt like it was imploding. My breathing was only becoming more ragged.   
“Search them!” Legolas ordered and the rest of the elves began to search the dwarves. I felt myself be pulled away from Kíli and instantly began to panic. Long fingers were locked around my arms, preventing me from struggling too much. Other hands were unbuckling Ringil from my back and my knife belt from my waist. Then they were searching inside my coat.   
“No, no…” I mumbled, trying to push their hands away, but they just came back. “No!”   
_I was on a bed, pinned down, with horrible hot hands grabbing under my skirt.  
There were goblins everywhere, ripping my clothes off, the goblin king’s fingers touching me.   
_ “NO!” I screamed as the tears came and the shame hit me harder than a tree falling from the sky.   
_Human whore!_  
Little cunt!  
Bitch!

 _Kíli_  
The elves wouldn’t let go of him. They had arrows pointed in his face and relentless hands anchoring his arms but he didn’t care. Vana was screaming. The elves searching her were not being gentle and she was panicking.   
Both he and the rest of the company protested, but the elves ignored them.   
“Stop!” He yelled. “Don’t touch her! You’re hurting her!”  He struggled furiously and winced as he felt a dagger press against his throat.   
“That’s enough!” The Elf-maid who had saved his life before stepped in front of him, facing Vana. “Let her go.”   
The elves let her crumple to the ground and she curled up in a ball, gasping for breath, her eyes squeezed shut as she cradled her head in her hands.   
“I tried, I tried, I tried,” she whimpered, clutching her head now. “I tried!”   
Kíli was worried she might start tearing her hair out. She had been acting so strangely in the forest, talking nonsense and speaking to people who clearly weren’t there. Now she was obviously very ill.   
He watched the Elf-maid kneel down beside her and reach out to touch her shoulder. Vana recoiled from the touch, still breathing too hard and fast for her to calm.   
“ _Hior nin_ , Legolas,” the Elf-maid addressed the blonde elf, who was clearly in charge. “The venom. She needs a healer.”   
“We will take them to my father,” he said simply, barely glancing at Vana before turning to speak to another one of his guards in Elvish.   
The Elf-maid regarded him coolly before turning back to Vana and trying to help her stand. Vana shrank away from every touch, her gasps for breath becoming sobs.   
“Let me help her!” Kíli called to the Elf-maid who looked back at him in surprise. “I’m unarmed. I won’t run. I just need to help her, please?”   
She gazed at him curiously for a moment before standing and nodding to the elves still holding him.  
“Let him go,” she ordered and they immediately released him. He ran to Vana and knelt next to her, refraining from touching her at first.   
“Vana,” he said softly. “It’s me. It’s alright, you’re not there anymore. You’re here with me.” Her movements stilled at the sound of his voice and she slowly began to move her hands away from her head. He gently reached out to take one of her hands and she opened her eyes to look at him.   
“Kíli…”   
“I’m right here,” he whispered. He then pulled her arm around his shoulders and gently helped her to her feet. She leant against him, barely able to walk, her breath still coming in shuddered gasps.   
He went to stand by his brother, trying his best to ignore the elves’ glares. Fíli was glaring up at the Elf searching him and finding every single one of his many hiding places for his knives, even the one at the nape of his neck, beneath the collar of his coat.   
“Hey!” He heard Glóin protest and turned to see Legolas holding his compact with the pictures of his family. “Give it back! That’s private!”   
“Who is this?” Legolas sneered at the first picture. “Your brother?”   
“That is my wife,” Glóin responded angrily.  
“And what is this foul creature? A goblin mutant?”   
“That’s my wee lad, Gimli!”  
Kíli glared at the blonde elf but was distracted by Vana slipping from his shoulders.   
“Vana, no,” he locked an arm around her waist and pulled her upright again. She managed to stand, barely, with a moan. “You need to stay with me, alright? You promised, remember? I don’t die, you don’t die. That was the deal.”   
He noticed the red-haired Elf staring at him, until she was called over by Legolas.   
“Tauriel!” He called her.   
He was holding Orcrist and Ringil in his hands, muttering to her in Elvish, before handing her Ringil. She gazed at it in awe, before looking back over to Vana.   
“Where did you get these?” Legolas addressed Thorin.   
“They were given to us,” Thorin replied in a hushed voice.   
Legolas regarded him for a moment before pointing the sword at Thorin’s throat.   
“Not just a thief,” he hissed. “But a liar as well.” He then lowered the sword with a flourish and barked an order at the other elves, who immediately began to shuffle the dwarves into a single file.    
“Wait!” Kíli protested as they wrenched Vana from him, shoving her roughly in front of him so she stumbled into Fíli. The older prince tried to keep her upright but his hands were bound. Kíli tried to get to her but another guard held him back, swiftly tying rope around his wrists in a complicated knot. He knew instantly he couldn’t get out of it.   
“Kíli?” Vana’s voice was hoarse and Kíli could see the panic in her eyes when she realised it wasn’t him holding her. He searched for Tauriel and found her.   
“At least let me walk with her!” Tauriel’s composed gaze shifted from him to Vana and she eventually gave a sympathetic nod. The guard behind Kíli sighed in exasperation and shoved him forward until he was walking next to Vana.   
“It’s alright,” Kíli said, pulling her arm over his shoulders with his bound hands. “I’m right here. I’m right next you. I’m right here, Vana.”   
She leaned against him, her legs moving awkwardly with his, and he did his best to keep talking to her as the elves marched them through the trees.   
Tauriel marched next to him and he turned to see her gazing sympathetically at Vana.   
“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” he asked.   
“She was stung twice,” Tauriel answered flatly. “There’s a lot of venom in her blood. And she’s human, so she is less resistant than the rest of you.”   
_Has she not been through enough?_  
“Will she be alright?”  
“If we can get her to the healers, then yes.”  
Kíli nodded and turned back to Vana. “Not long now, love,” he told her. “The Elves will heal you. You’re going to be fine.”   
Vana mumbled something in response that he couldn’t hear.   
“You care for her?”   
He turned to see Tauriel frowning curiously at him. He immediately resented her expression; too many times had he heard the stereotypes about dwarves and human women.   
“More than anything,” he said fiercely before turning back to Vana. He pointedly ignored Tauriel after that, though he could still feel her watching him as they went.


	7. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Moses I'm behind schedule! I can only apologise! 
> 
> Next chapter: well now they're just all in a pickle aren't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fucking Elves!" -- Richard Armitage, 2011

_Kíli_

The elves took them out of the cursed trees and into brighter, more open forest. The sun finally shone down on them and everything seemed so much greener, more alive. It wasn’t long before they reached the gates into the Woodland Realm; giant, intricately carved wooden gates that had been painted blue. They crossed a narrow stone bridge over a rushing river before entering the huge cavern where the wood elves now resided.  
 _Wood elves hiding from their own woodland._ Kíli couldn’t resist a small smirk at that thought.   
Vana seemed barely conscious now despite the fact she was still walking and stirring feebly whenever he called her name. Her chest shuddered with every breath and her eyes were barely open now.   
They were led across the stone walkways through the cavern and up a series of stairs that had been carved from thick branches and tree trunks. Ahead of him, at the top of the steps, he could see a tall, beautifully carved wooden throne, set atop a small flight of steps. Reclining on it, Kíli assumed, was the Elf-King, tall and lithe with long, blonde hair. Thranduil, he remembered the name from Thorin’s stories. So this was the Elf-king who had abandoned his uncle, his mother and so many of his kin to the wilderness. The thought made Kíli’s hands tremble with rage, until he heard Vana whimper, one hand moving to clutch her chest. She needed help from this king. He couldn’t lose his temper. Not now.   
The elves gathered them in a crowd in a front of Thranduil, who gazed at them with pale blue eyes, his face completely expressionless.   
“So much for the benevolence of Thranduil, Lord of the Elves,” Dwalin spat, brandishing his bound wrists. “Is this how you treat travellers to your lands?”   
Thranduil’s face remained utterly composed as he responded.   
“Only the ones who annoy me.” His voice was like velvet; disturbingly soft and threatening.   
“Is it a crime now?” Balin called to the king. “To be lost in the forest? To be hungry and thirsty?”   
“It is a crime to wander in my realm without leave. Did you forget you were using the road my people made?”   
Before anyone could respond, Tauriel came forward to address him.   
“My lord, Thranduil,” she gave a small bow before gesturing to Vana. “They have a woman with them. She is sick and in need of healing. Do I have your permission to take her to the healing houses?”   
Kíli felt sick at the thought of leaving Vana alone with these Elves, but this quickly turned to anger as he noticed Thranduil did not even look at Vana, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Thorin, who met his gaze without hesitation.   
“She can survive a few more hours,” Thranduil said. “Take them to the cells, except for their leader. I will speak with him first.”   
“Can yeh not see she’s sick?” Dwalin shouted as the elves began to direct them back down the steps. His protests were pointedly ignored.   
They were led many levels down, further underground until they came to the cells. There weren’t many and so some of the dwarves were doubled up.   
“She needs to stay with me,” he said to the elf who directed him to his cell. He only looked at Kíli with raised eyebrows and a sneer that made Kíli want to punch him. “She’s sick, she needs me.”   
The elf only rolled his eyes.   
“Put her in the cell with him.”   
Kíli looked over his shoulder to see Tauriel watching him closely. He could hear Dwalin bellowing threats at the elf who locked his cell along with Nori’s sharp yells at his captor to let him go. Kíli gently placed Vana on the stone bench inside. She sat hunched over, holding her head in her hands with a groan. He then turned to see his brother in the cell next to his being pulled back by his captor, groaning as the elf found a final hidden knife in his coat before being shoved inside.   
“Aren’t you going to search me?” Kíli asked Tauriel, fixing her with his best innocent gaze. “I could have anything down my trousers.”   
Tauriel, however, didn’t react how he had anticipated. He had expected her to be shocked. Instead she simply raised her eyebrows.   
“Or nothing,” she said pointedly, before closing the door to his cell and locking him in. He smirked a little before turning to Vana and kneeling beside her.   
“I’m sorry, amrâlimê,” He tentatively touched her face, only to feel her skin was burning. He stood up to take his coat off and folded it up into a makeshift pillow before placing it on the bench for her head. She muttered slightly as he lay her down and her eyes fluttered open.   
“Kíli?”   
“I’m right here,” he took one her hands in his. “How are you feeling?”  
“My…my chest hurts,” she gasped. He gently placed a hand on her chest and gasped at how fast her heartbeat was.   
“You’ll be alright,” he whispered, pressing his forehead gently against hers, ignoring the heat emanating off her skin. “I’ll make sure you get help.”  
Outside he could hear the other dwarves shouting and throwing themselves against the doors of their cells. Dwalin was throwing his entire weight against the door while Fíli was kicking furiously at his.   
“Leave it!” Balin bellowed over their useless efforts. “There’s no way out. This is no orc dungeon. These are the Halls of the Woodland Realm. No one leaves here, but by the king’s consent.”   
Kíli sighed heavily, stroking Vana’s hair as she tried to slow her breathing. _Uncle will get us out of this_ , he thought. _He is talking with the king right now. Hopefully he’ll make some sort of deal._

_Thorin_

Thorin watched his company be lead away, and glared at Thranduil again as the guards undid his bonds; only the supposedly great Elf-king would allow an innocent woman to suffer for the sake of tormenting his prisoner. Thranduil’s eyes never left Thorin as he stood from his throne and glided down towards him.   
“It has been a long time since Thorin Oakenshield travelled so far east.” His name rolled off Thranduil’s tongue in such a smooth tone, it made Thorin feel sick. Thorin made no answer. Thranduil towered over him and he made sure Thorin was aware of it, but he refused to be intimidated by him. After all, what kind of a king hides underground in his own realm while sickness spreads throughout his lands?   
“For what purpose?” the elf began to circle around him as he spoke. “Where does your journey end? Some may imagine a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon.”   
He paused again, and again Thorin said nothing.   
“I myself suspect a more prosaic motive,” Thranduil came around in front of him again, his voice becoming even softer, more musical. Thorin stiffened slightly, wondering if the elf might be trying to put him under some sort of spell. “Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.”   
Thorin resisted the urge to recoil as Thranduil leant in close to him.   
“You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule, the King’s Jewel. The Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure, I understand that.”   
The familiar pang of desire appeared in Thorin’s chest and the mention of the jewel, but he fought to keep his face straight in front of the elf-king. When Thranduil smirked at him he fought the urge to sink his fist as far into the elf’s gut as possible. As if reading his mind, the elf’s smirk soon faded as his face became composed once more.   
“There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight.”   
_There it is,_ Thorin thought. As he predicted, Thranduil gave a solemn nod.   
“I offer you my help.”   
“I am listening,” Thorin said, fighting the urge to smirk as Thranduil fixed his icy gaze on him.   
“I will heal your woman, then I will let you go, if you but return what is mine.”   
Thorin turned away to hide his knowing smirk. He suspected that Thranduil would make such demands, but to hear them from the elf’s own mouth was quite the different experience.   
“A favour for a favour,” he mused, still not facing Thranduil.   
“You have my word, one king to another.” Something inside Thorin snapped at these words and he raised his voice, making sure it echoed around the cavern. He wanted the entire realm to hear the truth about their king.   
“I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honour his word should the end of all days be upon us!” He then turned to Thranduil, addressing him directly. “You lack all honour! I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back! You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us!”   
By now Thranduil’s composure was all but gone as he stared wide-eyed at Thorin’s words. Summoning as much rage as he could muster, Thorin cursed him in Khuzdul in the worst way he could have:   
**“Imrid amrad urzûl!”**   
Before he could blink, Thranduil’s face was inches from his, his eyes wide with madness.   
“Do not talk to me of dragon fire!” he hissed. “I know its wrath and ruin!” With that, he closed his eyes, his face contorting in pain, and Thorin watched in horror as the skin seemed to melt away from his face, exposing the muscle and bone. His eyes opened again and one of them had turned white.   
“I have faced the great serpents of the North!” the elf hissed before recoiling, his face returning to normal. He regarded Thorin with a sneer. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen.”   
Thranduil turned away from Thorin’s glare and began to make his way back up to his throne, pausing only to say “You are just like him,” and wave his hand dismissively. Immediately, long, iron fingers locked around Thorin’s arms and he was dragged away while Thranduil watched from his throne.   
“Stay here if you will and rot!” he called after him. “A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

Thorin was thrown into a cell and the door slammed shut behind him. He was shaking, literally shaking with rage. How dare that elf try and bargain with him, try and blackmail him! He lost all rights to ask anything of Thorin when he turned away from them at the siege of the Mountain.   
“Did he offer you a deal?” he heard Balin call to him from somewhere beneath his cell.   
“He did,” Thorin sneered. “I told him he could go **îsh kakhfê ai-’d dûr-rugnu!** Him and all his kin!”   
“Well,” Balin sighed. “That’s that then. A deal was our only hope.”   
“Not our only hope,” Thorin muttered, thinking of the hobbit. Bilbo hadn’t been captured with them. He hadn’t been killed by the spiders, or so Thorin hoped.   
“Uncle?” Thorin started slightly at his nephew’s voice.   
“Kíli? Are you alright?”   
“I’m fine. But Vana’s getting worse. Did Thranduil tell you when she would see the healers?”   
Vana. The healers. Thorin cursed himself for being so stupid.   
“I’m sorry Kíli, he refused to help her unless we did what he wanted.”   
“Which was what?”   
“Something I cannot do,” he said truthfully. He could never give in to Thranduil’s demands. Not after everything he had done. Or rather, everything he had not done.   
“That’s awfully cryptic, uncle,” Kíli said angrily. “Vana needs help now. She’s in pain. She might not make it!”   
“Don’t say that Kíli!” Thorin snapped. “She will live.” _She must live_.   
“If she doesn’t, I will never forgive you!” Kíli shouted and Thorin cringed at the threat. It would be his fault, he thought to himself, but he had no choice…did he?

_Kíli_

Kíli sat opposite Vana’s semi-conscious form, trying to control his rage. _  
Why would he not do whatever he could to help Vana? What could Thranduil have possibly asked for that was worth more than my One?_   
He clenched his fists and pounded them into the floor, wincing at the impact. They were going to be in here for a long time. They would not reach the Mountain in time. Vana may not make it… He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.   
_Of course she’ll live! She has to!_   
He moved to sit next to the stone bench, taking Vana’s outstretched hand in his. Laying his arms flat on the bench beside her, he leant his head on his arms.   
“I’ll stay right here if you stay with me,” he whispered. “Please, stay with me.”   
“I’ll do my best,” she rasped and he smiled sadly.

It was hours later when he noticed Tauriel return to the cells. She was making her rounds, no doubt, checking they were all still there. Aside from a few grumbles, the dwarves ignored her, having resigned themselves to no chance of escape. She finally came to Kíli’s cell, pausing outside to peer in at Vana.   
“How is she?” she asked so softly, Kíli could barely hear. He raised his head off his arms to look at her properly, making no attempt to hide his anger.   
“She’s getting worse. She’s barely conscious now, and she’s still not breathing properly. Her heart’s racing and she has a high fever.” He glared at her. “And your king doesn’t care one bit!” he hissed.   
Tauriel, once again, did not react in the way he anticipated. Instead of being offended, she ducked her head, as if ashamed. She glanced around her quickly before leaning right into the cell door.   
“I do not agree with the king’s benign attitude towards a sick prisoner.” Before Kíli could retort, she had unlocked the door to his cell, slipped in and shut the door behind her. She then reached into her coat and produced a small, sealed bottle. “Give her this, it will help drive the poison from her system. And you will probably find she needs this.” She deposited a bucket on the floor.   
Kíli stared at it in surprise for a moment, his gaze moving between the bottle, the bucket and the red-haired elf.   
“How do I know that’s not a poison? Why should I trust you?”   
“You do not know,” she said simply. “But it is the only hope you have. You should trust me because I have seen this happen before, to my comrades, and because my mother was a healer.” She placed the bottle on the ground before rising to her feet. “I must go, I have duties to tend to. Use the treatment, or do not use it, it is your choice.”   
With that, she left the cell, locked the door, turned on her heel and disappeared from sight. Kíli stared at the bottle for another minute, unsure what to think.   
_She’s an elf, one of them,_ he thought. _But then again, she did save my life. And she seemed genuinely concerned about Vana._   
He picked up the bottle and uncorked it, taking a small sniff of the liquid inside. It smelled strange, almost floral and yet distinctly medicinal. He decided to try it and gently shook Vana’s shoulder. She muttered something inaudible between shuddering breaths.   
“Vana?” He whispered. “The elves have brought you something. A tonic. It will make you feel better.” He raised it to her lips, but she caught the scent of it and instinctively tried to roll away.   
“Please, Vana?” he pleaded with her, sliding a hand beneath her head to raise it up. “Drink it? For me?”   
With a tired sigh, Vana relaxed and he raised the bottle to her lips, helping her drink it. She swallowed all of it in three gulps, screwing her face up at the taste.   
“Not…good…” she gasped.   
“I know, I’m sorry, but it will make you feel better.”   
“No, not -” Her words were cut off as she gagged, her hand flying to her mouth. Kíli immediately grabbed the bucket and held it in front of her, moving her braid out of the way as she lurched forward and vomited hard. The liquid that came out was a revolting dark green colour, and Kíli had to fight back revulsion as it kept coming out of her until she had nothing left and continued to dry heave. By the time she eventually lay back down she was gasping for breath and had tears pouring down her face.   
“Vana, it’s alright,” Kíli said softly, trying to ignore the contents of the bucket as he placed it as far away from them as he could.   
“Sorry,” she rasped. “So...disgusting…”   
“Here,” Kíli found a jug of water at the foot of the bench and poured some into a cup for her. She sipped it slowly before resting her head back on his coat.   
“S-sleepy,” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering over her glassy eyes.   
“That’s okay. Sleep, my love.” He smiled and kissed her hot forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”  
She mumbled something in response before settling into a deep slumber.

_Fíli_

“Kíli?” There was a small hole in the wall of his cell, just big enough for him to look through, and Fíli waited for Vana to fall asleep before softly calling for his brother. Kíli glanced around, confused at first, until he discovered the small hole. He had to crouch down, his cell being slightly raised above his brother’s.   
“You alright?” Kíli whispered.   
“Fantastic, having a wail of a time. You?”   
Kíli glanced back at Vana. “Tauriel said the drink would help her, do you think she’ll be alright?”   
“Tauriel?”   
“The elf-maid.”   
“Since when are you on first-name terms with an elf-maid?”   
“Since she saved my life and is now saving Vana’s,” Kíli said defensively.   
“She also captured us and locked you in a cell.”   
“Under orders from her king.”   
“Just be careful Kee,” Fíli implored his little brother. “And maybe avoid smart remarks about what you have in your trousers.”   
Kíli smirked at the reference, remembering Tauriel’s effortless response. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” Kíli chuckled. “Âmad would have smacked me over the head.”   
“As well she should have,” Fíli smirked back. “At least it was an actual elf-maid this time.”   
“Oh Mahal,” Kíli buried his head in his hands. “I was hoping you’d all forgotten that.”   
“I don’t think anyone will ever forget that,” Fíli shook his head at his brother, happy to see him smiling.   
“Fee?”   
“Yes?”   
“Do you think we’ll get out of here?”   
“I don’t know,” Fíli sighed. “I heard Bofur mention that Bilbo hadn’t been captured. Maybe he’ll find a way to get us out.”   
“What if the spiders got him?” Kíli mumbled.   
“Well we just have to hope they didn’t. It’s either that or Thorin has to make a deal with the elf-king. We’ll never get out of here before Durin’s day if that’s the case.”   
There was a short pause where Fíli watched his little brother stare at the floor, deep in thought.   
“Fee?” He eventually said, almost inaudibly.   
“Yes?”   
“What if we can’t reclaim the mountain?”   
“Well…” Fíli realised that he had never really considered that possibility. Thorin seemed so sure of the quest back in the Shire, even back in Ered Luin when he had first told Fíli and Kíli. He had even managed to convince their mother that they were sure to succeed. Failure had never been an option until now.   
“I suppose we go home, to the Blue Mountains.”   
“To Âmad,” Kíli pointed out with a small smile. “I miss her.”   
“Can you imagine if she were here?” Fíli mused with a laugh. “She would have a few choice words to say to Thorin.”   
“More like many, many choice words.”   
“She’d be giving each of us a clip round the ear for being so stupid as to get caught by spiders.”   
“She’d be doing much worse to the spiders.”   
“And to Thranduil.”   
“Now, there’s something I would love to see,” Kíli laughed openly at the image of his mother berating the powerful and ancient elf-king. For the next few hours, Fíli and Kíli allowed themselves to reminisce about their old life back in Ered Luin, and their mother who waited for them there. Kíli wondered if she had received his letter about Vana yet and Fíli assured him she was probably planning their wedding for them right now.

_Kíli_

At some point Fíli had fallen asleep and Kíli was left sitting in his cell. He watched Vana sleep soundly for a little while before leaning against the wall by her bench and falling asleep himself. When he eventually woke, Vana was shivering slightly and drenched in sweat. He felt her forehead, which was burning, and tried and failed to shake her awake. She barely responded even when he yelled her name. He shouted for Óin, who was in one of the cells opposite him and asked what to do. He went from panicked to furious when Óin told him all he could do was try and keep her cool to break the fever and wait for her to wake up herself. The argument that ensued eventually spread to include half of the company, cursing the elves and the spiders and the woodland, cursing Gandalf for leaving them and it wasn’t long before the elf guards marched down to silence them. Kíli, in his rage, demanded that they bring a healer to see Vana but the elves only sneered at him and left, disgusted that a dwarf had dared to demand something from them. Kíli felt as if he could have ripped the door of his cell off its hinges, but resigned himself to ripping a small piece of material from his shirt to use as a cloth. He soaked it in water from the water jug and squeezed some of the water between her slightly parted lips before placing the cloth on her forehead.   
He jumped as he saw Tauriel standing silently at the cell door, watching him curiously.   
“How long have you been there?” He asked gruffly, irritated that he’d been so startled.   
“Only a few minutes.” Tauriel cocked her head to the side slightly, regarding the couple.   
“Your name is Kíli?”   
Kíli nodded. “And yours is Tauriel.”   
Tauriel appeared surprised for a moment before recomposing her face again. “And her name?”   
“Vana.” Kíli gazed down at the sleeping woman. She was shivering less violently now and her temperature was starting to go down. He softly stroked the loose strands of hair away from where they stuck to her forehead. “Her name is Vana.”   
“Vána?” Kíli saw the curiosity now clearly etched over Tauriel’s face. “Of the Valar? The Queen of the Blossoming Flowers and the Ever-Young?”   
Kíli smiled at the reference. He had read about Vána in one of his compulsory lessons with Balin before meeting her. The name had stuck in his mind, resurfacing when he saw Vana smile at the ponies that first day he had spent with her.   
“When I met her she had no name,” he explained to Tauriel, who took a seat on the step just outside his cell to listen. “My uncle found her, lost and alone, and brought her to our home in the Blue Mountains. She had no memories of who she was or where she came from and we needed something to call her. I suggested a few dwarven names, but she didn’t like any of them,” he chuckled as he recalled Vana’s looks of contempt at his suggestions. _Why on earth did I ever suggest Girda??_ he thought to himself.   
“I had read about the Valar, mainly about Mahal, or Aulë you would call him, and his wife Yavanna. Vána was her sister.” Tauriel nodded with a small smile. “They say she is most perfectly beautiful in form and feature, representing the natural unmarred perfection of form in living things.”   
“All flowers spring as she passes,” Kíli recited the passage from memory with a small smile. “And open if she glances upon them; and all birds sing at her coming.” He placed a hand in her long copper hair, softly tracing the braid stretching down her side.   
“You love her,” Tauriel observed. Kíli glanced at her, noticing her eyes were large and shining, a mixture of green and brown, the colours of the forest. Vana’s were a bright and intense green. Tauriel’s were clam and peaceful.   
“She is my One,” he said softly, feeling oddly at ease around this elf. He knew his brother would have a thing or two to say about it, and then of course there was his uncle. But for the moment, he didn’t care. “She’s everything to me. Yes, I love her with every fibre of my being.”   
Tauriel regarded him for a moment, allowing a small smile to stretch across her lips.   
“She will be alright,” she promised him. “She should wake once her temperature goes down. I will return later.” Kíli nodded as she stood up.   
“Tauriel,” he managed to catch her attention as she began to ascend the steps. “Thank you.”   
He smiled at her gratefully and she nodded once before disappearing. Kíli looked back to Vana, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.   
“My queen of the blossoming flowers,” he murmured with a small smile.

Kíli had long lost count of the hours they had spent in those cells. It had to have been well over a day by now. They had each been given a plate of bread and berries and fresh water on two occasions now and an elf guard had grudgingly fetched the bucket from their cell, but aside from that they had been largely ignored. Vana’s temperature had gone down and she was now breathing normally. She had woken up a few hours after Tauriel’s visit and had managed to drink some more water and eat a few mouthfuls of bread. With no energy in her, however, she had soon fallen asleep again, curling up on the bench with Kíli’s hand stroking her hair. The light in the cavern began to grow dimmer and he assumed night was beginning to fall. He sat between the bench and the cell door, alternating between watching Vana sleep and peering out into the cavern to watch for Tauriel. She had said she would return after all.   
He could hear the distant chattering of the elves and music playing above them. It reminded him of the midsummer’s feast in Rivendell and Vana playing and dancing in her white dress. He smiled at the memory, resting his arms across his stomach, only to feel his fingers brush up against something hard and smooth sticking out of the pocket of his trousers. He felt for the object and pulled it out. It was the rune stone his mother had given him. He’d almost forgotten it was there. He smiled to himself as he turned it over in his fingers, running his thumb over the runes carved into it.  
 _“First, you will be careful. And I mean careful. No running into caves, no jumping off cliffs, no climbing trees, no getting into fights.”_  
Done, done and done, he smirked to himself.   
“Secondly, you will listen to everything that Thorin says. If he tells you to run, you run, no questions.”   
That’s worked so far, he thought with a grimacing glance around his cell.   
“Thirdly, you come back to me in one piece.”   
Well, so far so good Âmad. No injuries to report.   
He threw it into the air and caught it. Then he tried throwing it with one hand and catching it with the other; and then again with different hands. He almost didn’t notice Tauriel approaching the door of the cell and as she stopped in front of the door he attempted to hide the stone in a clenched fist.   
“The stone in your hand,” Tauriel observed with a small smile at his failed attempts to conceal it. “What is it?”   
Kíli opened his hand to gaze down at the stone. “It is a talisman,” he said in a low voice. “A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the ruins on this stone, they will be forever cursed!”   
He brandished the stone at her so she could see the runes and Tauriel recoiled slightly, her eyes wide with astonishment. It occurred to Kíli that the elves may not share the same sense of humour as the dwarves. As she turned to leave, his expression softened into a playful grin.   
“Or not,” he shrugged. “Depending on whether you believe in that kind of thing. It’s just a token.” He chuckled as Tauriel turned back to him with a curious smile.   
“A rune stone,” he continued. “My mother gave it to me so I’d remember my promise.”   
“What promise?”   
“That I would come back to her.”   
Tauriel smiled again, looking down at the ground as if deep in thought.   
“She worries,” Kíli added with a mischievous grin. “She thinks I’m reckless.”   
“Are you?” Tauriel raised an eyebrow.   
“Nah,” Kíli said and threw the stone into the air again. To his horror it slipped through his fingers and bounced off the floor through the bars of the cell. Tauriel swiftly trapped it under the toe of her boot before it could fall into the cavern and bent down to retrieve it. Kíli stood to get it back but Tauriel kept her back to him, holding it up to the light. The noise of the elves had increased and Kíli could clearly hear the sounds of laughter over the flowing music.   
“Sounds like quite a party you’re having up there,” he observed.   
“It is Mereth en Gilith,” Tauriel turned to face him again. “The Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar. But wood-elves love best the light of the stars.”   
“I always thought it is a cold light,” Kíli told her, earning him a questioning look. “Remote and far away.” Tauriel shook her head slightly.   
“It is memory!” she exclaimed softly. “Precious and pure, like your promise.” She held his rune stone out to him and he took it with a small smile. She had the same look in her eye that Vana had whenever she saw the stars.   
“Vana likes the stars too,” he said and she smiled widely.   
“She does not share your opinion?”   
“She would agree with you. She says they make her feel safe, as if the ghosts of her forgotten life are watching over her.”   
“Does it not sadden her? To not remember her parents? Her home?”   
“It used to. I think perhaps it still does. But she has a new home now. A new family.” He glanced at Vana, still fast asleep and pointed to her braids. “Do you see these? This braid here was given to her by one of the dwarves in our company when he adopted her. It shows her to be a member of his family.”   
“And the other?” Tauriel asked, the curious smile back.   
“A courting braid. I did one for her, and she did one for me.” He turned so Tauriel could see the braids at the back of his head. He turned back to see Tauriel smiling that very light, composed smile of elves.   
“To the Eldar, the stars are a little like your braids. They represent who we are - followers of the light – and remind us of our purpose to watch over this world.” Tauriel’s smile faded a little as she looked up into the cavern towards the feast. Kíli was about to ask her what was wrong until she quickly turned back to him.   
“I have walked there sometimes,” she said, her face suddenly glowing with excitement. “Beyond the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away, and the white light of forever fill the air.”   
Kíli watched as her eyes sparkled, so similar to Vana’s. He wished she was awake to hear this. Vana loved all things to do with the stars. He blinked slightly as a memory crossed his mind.   
“I saw a fire moon once,” he said and Tauriel immediately met his gaze. She sat down on the step again, listening intently as he recounted the story. “It rose over the pass near Dunland; Huge. Red and gold it was, it filled the sky. We were an escort for some merchants from Ered Luin. They were trading in silverwork for furs. We took the Greenway south, keeping the mountain to our left, and then it appeared; this huge fire moon lighting our path. I wish I could show you the caverns, filled with the red-gold light. It was as if the sun and the moon had come together just for that one night. And Vana was so excited. She was practically dancing with joy, like a child. She used to sing for us around the campfire at night, but that night she just wanted to dance. Some of the merchants had instruments and they played for us -”   
“Kíli?”   
Kíli whipped around at the sound of his name. Vana’s eyes fluttered open as she stirred slightly, blindly reaching out with her hand. He crouched next to her and took her hand, a wide smile spreading across his face.   
“Amrâlimê?” “Kíli,” her voice was hoarse and he quickly released her hand to pour some of the water into a cup for her to drink. She immediately tried to gulp it down, but he held the cup firmly. “Slowly, love. Or you’ll be sick.”   
She obliged and took a few small sips. “Kee…who were you talking to?”   
Kíli nodded to the elf who was now standing outside the cell door. She smiled as Vana met her gaze.   
“This is Tauriel,” Kíli said. “She saved you.”   
“How are you feeling?” Tauriel asked. Kíli turned back to face Vana, only to find her glaring furiously at Tauriel.   
“Go,” she hissed and before Kíli could stop her she launched the cup at the door, where it exploded in a loud smash, making Tauriel leap back in shock.   
“Leave!”   
The noise roused the rest of the company in their own cells and soon they were all at the doors, peering around for the source of all the noise.   
“Vana?” Dwalin called into the cavern. “Is that you?”   
“Is she awake?” Bofur asked.   
“Vana are you alright?” Fíli’s face was back at the small hole in the wall between his and Kíli’s cell.   
Kíli gripped Vana’s upper shoulders, very disturbed at what had just happened. Tauriel had disappeared from sight, startled by the whole event.   
“What’s wrong with you?” He demanded angrily. Her face was contorted in anger and yet her eyes were wide with fear.


	8. Barrels - a better or worse idea than the pinecones?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can think of only one way to sum this one up:   
> "Hold onto your butts." -- Samuel L. Jackson, Jurassic Park (1993)

_ Vana _

Everything felt so heavy that I couldn’t move. My stomach was so empty that it hurt. I wanted to open my eyes but my eyelids were glued shut. Kíli was speaking. I wanted to reply but my voice was gone. My lips wouldn’t move. The fog began to clear a little and I could make out his words.   
“…red and gold it was, it filled the sky…”   
The weights were slowly beginning to lift. I could move my fingers.  
“…she was practically dancing with joy, like a child. She used to sing for us…”  
I managed to tilt my head towards his voice, managed to move my hand, and slowly my eyes followed suit. I was in a small room with walls of stone, I was lying on stone, everything was made of stone.   
“Kíli?” I finally forced out.   
“Amrâlimê?” His voice in my ear and his hand in mine finally pulled me out of my fuzzy state. My head still swam and my throat was parched but he was here with me and that was all that mattered.   
“Kíli…” I needed to stay awake. I had no idea how long I had been asleep and I needed him to keep talking, even if it was only to one of the other members of the company.   
He gave me some water and I resisted the urge to laugh when he told me off for drinking too fast. That was his mother coming through.   
“Kee, who were you talking to?” I rasped, expecting to hear some sort of smart remark from his brother.   
“This is Tauriel,” Kíli said. “She saved you.”   
“How are you feeling?” A distinctly female voice came from beside me and I turned to see, firstly, that we were actually in cells and I was looking through bars, and secondly that I was looking at an elf – an elf-maid with long red hair.   
She was smiling kindly at me, as if I were an old friend of hers she had not seen in a while, even though she had never seen me before in her life.   
But I had seen her.   
I had seen her, except when I saw her it was through an Elvish mirror, and she had not been smiling, she had been weeping. And Kíli was dead.   
_Kíli was dead._  
“Go,” I hissed. I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t want her smiling at me, looking upon me like a friend. Her face meant death for my One. Her stupid smile faded as she regarded me but she didn’t move.   
“Leave!” I shouted, my hand locking around something and throwing it before I could stop myself. I just wanted her to leave. The cup of water smashed on the cell door and Tauriel leapt back with a look of confused horror on her face before leaving quickly. Kíli fixed me with a look of such fury as he gripped my shoulders hard that I barely heard the others begin to shout for me.   
“What’s wrong with you?” He demanded, shaking me slightly. I flinched at his actions, still trying to clear my head completely.   
“She…” I suddenly found myself at a loss. _How can I explain my actions without telling him about the vision?_  
“She’s an elf!” I ended up saying, cringing at how ridiculous it sounded.   
Kíli released my shoulders, frowning angrily at me.   
“She’s an elf who saved your life!” He hissed. “Saved my life as well in case you didn’t notice! She’s done nothing but look out for you.”  
“Aside from capturing us and locking us up,” I pointed out sharply.   
“Thranduil locked us up.” Kíli raised an eyebrow. “Tauriel -”  
“How do you know her name?”   
“I heard another elf calling her by it.” Kíli rolled his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Uncle.”   
“Kíli,” I searched desperately for the right words but my head was just so clouded. “You need to stay away from her.”   
“Why?” Kíli stood and folded his arms. “Are you worried I’m going to be unfaithful?”   
“No, of course not,” I shook my head at his stupidity... _although he had been so quick to defend her_. “Why, should I be?”     
Kíli scoffed, pacing to the other side of the cell.   
“As if I would even be able to do anything from a cell.”   
“That’s not an answer.”   
“No!” Kíli exclaimed as he threw his hands in the air. “How many times have I told you that _you’re_ my One? How long have I sat by your side while you healed? First it was the warg, then the goblins, then the spiders; how long have I protected you and loved you? And yet you wake up to find me talking to the elf-maid who healed you and you immediately think I’m throwing all of that away.”  
I winced at the sheer bite of his words.   
“I didn’t,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “You thought that. I’ve never doubted your love for a moment Kíli. I’m just sorry I’ve been such a burden to you.”   
“Don’t do that,” Kíli said, pointing a threatening finger at me. “Don’t you twist my words.”   
“Don’t ignore mine!” My voice cracked as I made a weak attempt to shout.   
“I’m not!” Kíli shouted. “I’m trying to make sense of them! I’m not a mind-reader!” He paused and took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching his fists to calm down. “Just tell me, whatever it is.”   
I stared at him, taking in his narrowed eyes, his fierce mouth, clenched fists, tense stance. He looked as if he was trying not to hit something.   
“All I’m asking is for you to stay away from her.” I said quietly. “All the years we’ve known each other, you always said you were there for me, whatever I needed. You trust me don’t you?”   
Kíli closed his eyes and huffed loudly.   
“Of course I do,” he said eventually. “But I have a right to know why you’re being so irrational.”   
“I’m not being irrational,” I said thickly, trying to control my own temper. _Please don’t ask me, I can’t tell you. I cannot tell you that you are going to die. Not before I’ve figured out how to prevent it._ “I’m just asking you to trust me. Is that so hard?”   
“Honestly?” He looked me in the eye, his expression slightly pained. “Yes. Right now it is hard to trust you.”   
“Why?” I frowned. “What have I done?”   
“Vana.” My name left his mouth through gritted teeth as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be trying to pick his words. “In the woods you…you kept saying a lot of strange things. You were babbling, talking to people who weren’t there, seeing things that didn’t exist.”   
“I was?” I asked, trying to sort through the jumbled memories in my head.   
“Yes,” he looked at me and I glared defensively as I saw that familiar look enter his eye; _pity._ “The spells in the woods, they got to you. And then you were bitten by those spiders. Are you sure you’re not just…mixing things up? Confusing Tauriel for someone else?”   
I cringed at her name, clenching my jaw as the image of her weeping over Kíli’s body filled my head.   
“I know _exactly_ who she is,” I hissed.   
“Then tell me!”   
“NO!” I roared with an unexpected ferocity that made him jump. He stared at me, confused, scared, I wasn’t sure what his expression was favouring.   
I buried my face in my hands, trying to calm down. My head felt so full and yet so empty of thought; thick with the fog covering the last few days and making it hard for me to recall anything that had happened since entering the forest – and instead fixating on the image of Tauriel on the watchtower, tears streaming down her grief-stricken face.   
Kíli stayed where he was – as far across the cell from me as possible – while I remained sitting on the bench, trying to calm my shaking hands.   
An uncomfortable silence echoed around us, the sheer awkwardness emanating from the whole company who had obviously heard our entire argument.   
After many, many long minutes Bofur’s normally cheery voice sounded across the cavern in an uncharacteristically banal drawl.   
“I’ll wager the sun is on the rise. It must be nearly dawn.”   
“How long have we been here?” I called out.   
“An entire day and night, lassie,” Balin replied. “I think anyway.”   
“How’re yeh feelin’ lass?” I heard Dwalin’s concerned rumble from somewhere above me.   
“I’m fine.” I made sure to shoot a pointed look at Kíli as I responded.   
“We’re never gonna reach the Mountain are we?” Ori asked in a small voice. Nobody had the heart to reply. Until -   
“Not stuck in here you’re not.” A familiar whisper came from above our cell and it brought an instant smile to my face. Both Kíli and I rushed to the cell door to peer out, searching desperately for the source.   
“Bilbo!” Balin’s surprised shout confirmed it for us.   
“What?” Kíli’s face split into a huge grin as he turned to the wall next to him. “Fíli? Is it really him?”   
“I told you so!” I could hear Fíli’s excited response from through the wall.   
“Oh you clever, clever Hobbit!” I said quietly as the others started to cheer.   
“Ssh!” Bilbo’s annoyed hiss quietened them and I could hear the cranking of opening cell doors. “There are guards nearby!”   
I could see Thorin, Dwalin, Balin and Nori milling over the staircases opposite us as Bilbo freed them first. He then appeared at our door, a large ring of keys in his hand, fumbling with our lock.   
“You’re looking much better, Vana,” Bilbo whispered with a kind smile.   
“And you’re truly becoming a wonder Bilbo,” I winked as he opened the cell door.   
“Close your doors!” I looked up to see Thorin whispering to us. “It’ll buy us more time.” I nodded and turned to comply – only to bump right into Kíli.   
“Watch it!” he hissed angrily before turning to close the doors. I held back a sharp word or two, instead turning to find Dwalin. He was bounding down the stairs towards me and before I could even smile at him he had pulled me roughly into his arms.   
“Are yeh sure yer alright?” he whispered.   
“Fine. I’m just fine,” I assured him, hugging him back briefly before I felt Kíli’s arm on my back.   
“Come on! We have to go!”   
I shook free of his touch, glaring back at him. Behind him Fíli was frowning and the others were starting to crowd the narrow walkway.   
“Up the stairs!” Thorin called from behind Dwalin, beckoning us up.   
“You first,” Dwalin gently guided me in front of him and I hid a smile as I caught him shoot Kíli a glare.   
“Not that way!” Bilbo called to us in a whisper and we turned to see him heading down another set of steps. “Follow me!” He waved hurriedly and at Thorin’s nod we all turned to follow. I followed Dwalin closely with Thorin and Balin close behind. As we ventured further and further down, Bilbo slowed to a creep, shushing us as we followed. He reached the foot of the steps and stopped, raising a hand for us to do the same. Even from halfway up the steps I could hear soft, yet very distinct snoring.   
After a moment, Bilbo nodded and beckoned us to follow, leading us down into a room. Every wall was lined with huge wooden wine racks and there were stacks of barrels on the floor opposite us. Right next to us, however, was a small wooden table littered with empty bottles and three elves, slumped fast asleep in their chairs.   
“Oh, come on,” I heard Kíli’s irritated whisper. “I don’t believe it, we’re in the cellars!”   
“You were supposed to be leading us out, not further in!” Bofur hissed at Bilbo.   
“I know what I’m doing!” He retorted, only to be shushed very rudely by Bofur.   
“And what exactly is that?” I asked him. He only waved us all past. Once we were all crowded in he directed us towards the barrels.   
“Right, everyone climb into the barrels, quickly!”   
We all turned to stare, dumbfounded, at our burglar.   
_This is worse than the pinecones.  
_ “Are you mad?” Dwalin growled. “They’ll find us!”   
“No, they won’t, I promise you!” Bilbo implored. “Please, you must trust me!”   
I caught Kíli’s eye, and then many of the others, all of whom looked unconvinced. I eyed the barrels uneasily; they were large enough to fit us in but it would be cramped. I looked back to Bilbo who was now fixing Thorin with a pleading look. Thorin met his gaze before turning back to us.   
“Do as he says!”   
With a sigh I looked towards the barrels, taking the first one I could find. I crouched next to it and put my feet in first, trying to manoeuvre myself in. I managed to curl up fairly easily though I highly anticipated neck cramps in the near future. The dwarves cursed and grumbled as they got into their barrels and I could hear Kíli’s irritated mewls coming from the barrel next to mine.   
“This is never going to work!”   
“You have a better idea?” I muttered a little too loudly.   
“What do we do now?” Bofur’s question interrupted Kíli’s retort and we all stuck our heads out to look to Bilbo, who was standing next to a large, wooden lever.   
_Uh oh…  
_ “Hold your breath,” Bilbo said simply before reaching for the lever.   
“Hold me breath?” Bofur muttered. “What do you mean?”   
“Bilbo, don’t you -”   
It was too late. He had already pulled it and the floor was tilting. I turned to see Kíli’s surprised face below me, followed by a body of clear, cold-looking water. We all cried out as the barrels tumbled one by one through the trap door and into the river below. The water hit me in one hard, freezing cold punch, knocking the air out of my lungs as it engulfed me for a few seconds before I surfaced. I gripped the edge of my barrel and pulled myself up, able to stand upright though I was submerged to my waist. I spat water out of my mouth, shaking my head to clear my vision.   
“Do you mind?” Kíli snapped angrily and I opened my eyes to see him wiping his face free of the water-saliva mix I had just covered him with.   
“Sorry,” I muttered, looking up from where we’d fallen. The door was closed again but as I looked around me in the water I couldn’t see Bilbo.   
“Damn it, Bilbo!” I looked up again, waiting for him to appear. _This is definitely worse than the pinecones. And not as well thought-out.  
_ “Should we go?” I heard Glóin mutter.   
“No!” Thorin ordered. “We wait for the hobbit.”   
The river current was already dragging us further away from the door but before too long the door opened and Bilbo came falling, rather gracefully, into the water with a startled yell.   
He surfaced immediately and swam towards us.   
“Well done, Master Baggins,” Thorin grinned at him as Nori, who was closest to him, reached down to grip Bilbo’s arm. Bilbo hung onto Nori’s barrel and gave Thorin a wave of acknowledgement.   
“Go! Come on!” Thorin ordered and began paddling his barrel to speed it up. I reached for Kíli’s barrel to pull myself forward and swept my other hand through the water. The river bent around the corner and the current sped up considerably. Looking ahead, I saw to my horror that this was due to a fairly sizeable waterfall that was about to drag us down into its freezing cold depths.   
“Hold on!” Thorin yelled as his barrel went down first, followed closely by Fíli, Dwalin, Kíli and then -   
I screamed as I plummeted downwards, swallowing a lot of water in the process. The force of the fall pushed my barrel almost to the river bed before the current caught it and pushed it back out again. I inhaled desperately with a loud gasp as I surfaced, sweeping the water and hair out of my face with one hand. Ahead of me, Kíli was gripping his barrel with both hands, shaking his long dark hair free of his face.   
“Bilbo!”   
I turned at Nori’s shout, seeing him desperately pulling Bilbo up, trying to haul him out of the water.   
“Bilbo, hold on!” I called back, feeling utterly useless and panicked as I watched the poor hobbit sputter and cough only to fall back under again.   
“Help!” A cry from my right caught my attention and I turned to see Ori, looking at me with huge, frightened eyes as his barrel bent forward.   
“Ori!” I screamed and reached out grab his hand. He latched onto my arm with one hand, gripping the side of his barrel with the other and his barrel soon righted itself by smashing into the side of my barrel.   
“Hold on to me.” I called to him as I spotted a wave of rapids awaiting us. He nodded and gripped my arm harder.   
A loud horn suddenly sounded from behind us and as we descended into the rapids I caught sight of a stone wall stretched across the river, with a gateway underneath.   
“Oh no,” I breathed as I saw the Elven guards on the wall draw their weapons whilst one of them pulled a lever with cause the gate to slowly swing shut.   
“No!” Thorin shouted as his barrel hit the gate, trapping him under the wall.   
My head snapped up at the sharp sound of an arrow and before my eyes one of the guards fell forward into the water, replaced by an orc clambering over the wall.   
“Watch out!” Bofur shouted as the guard splashed into the water in front of me. “There’s orcs!”  
“Ori!” I reached out to grab onto the shore with one hand, steadying my barrel, while the other directed Ori’s in front of mine. “Get under the wall!”   
“Orcs!” Fíli cried, pulling Óin and Dori’s barrels in front of his to keep them under the gate.   
The guards were completely taken by surprise as orcs began scrambling over the wall, overpowering them incredibly quickly. There were a series of shouts and cries from the shore as well and I turned to see a whole crowd of orcs spilling over the rocks towards us, taking down any Elven guards in their path. The biggest orc paused on top of the rocks to shout orders to them in Black Speech and I found myself staring at him; he had bear claws on his shoulders…   
Before I could think any more of it another orc leapt into the water right next to me and started clambering onto my barrel.   
I screeched as it snarled at me, grabbing its arm to keep it from plunging a huge knife into my chest. Two hands then grabbed the orc’s armour, wrenching it off me with such force that it dropped its knife into my barrel. I grabbed it and looked to see Kíli snap its neck with a furious shout.   
“Be careful!” He glared at me, not noticing the orc approaching him from the shoreline. Without hesitating, I gripped the knife in my fingertips and threw it forcefully over Kíli’s shoulder, impaling the orc in the neck. He snapped around to see it crumble to the ground before looking back at me, shock etched all over his face.   
“You’re welcome,” I growled before looking all around me for approaching threats.   
One orc leapt on top of an unarmed Nori only to be stabbed in the chest by Bilbo, who was the only one still with a sword. Next to me, Fíli was punching an orc repeatedly in the face until it finally collapsed.   
My barrel suddenly jerked and I looked around to see a boot momentarily perched on the edge of it before leaping off. Kíli was leaping across the barrels towards the edge of the wall.   
“Kíli, what are you doing?” I shouted, half in fear and half in pure irritation.   
He reached the shore and dodged the swing of an orc axe. Dwalin tossed him a discarded orc sword and Kíli managed to kill his attacker, kicking its body into the water before running up the steps. He engaged a second orc and a third orc came up behind him. Next to me, Fíli threw a knife taken from the orc he’d finally rendered unconscious and threw it at the third orc. Kíli beheaded the second orc and slashed at another which had leapt over the wall at him, before dropping the sword and going for the lever.   
Then he stopped. And with him the rest of the world stopped. He was standing at the lever, staring at it, with a black, orcish arrow impaling his leg, just above his knee.   
“Kíli!” Fíli’s terrified shout echoed in my head and I locked eyes with Thorin, fear etched all over my face. He looked back at me and I could see his lips form Kíli’s name. A loud grunt from above me brought my eyes back to Kíli and I saw him gripping the lever, his face contorted in pain, before collapsing to the ground. I whipped around to search for his attacker and saw the huge orc from before, grinning at me and wielding a large black bow.   
The familiarity suddenly hit me. The orc in the vision I had seen. The orc who killed Kíli. It wasn’t Azog after all.   
“NO!” I screamed at him. _This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. I’m supposed to prevent it! Kíli cannot die. Fíli and Kíli have to survive._  
The whizzing of arrows distracted me from the orc and I turned to see Tauriel, sprinting towards Kíli and firing arrow after arrow into the orcs on the wall around him. Kíli had seen her too and was staring at her in awe, before snapping back to reality and pulling himself up on the rocks towards the lever.   
“Fíli!” I called to his brother who was watching the whole scene with terrified eyes. “His barrel!”  
He nodded and grabbed his brother’s empty barrel, steadying himself on the rock and guiding it towards me. I gripped the shore line with one hand and with the other hand I clung onto Kíli’s barrel. I was now under the wall with Fíli on the other side watching his brother.   
There was a loud creak as the gates began to open, the current sucking Thorin out along with the others in front of us. I heard a loud grunt of pain from Kíli and clung on tighter to the shoreline as the current began to pull harder.   
“Kíli!” Fíli called desperately and with an agonising groan Kíli tumbled from the wall into his barrel. I heard the arrow break on the side of the barrel with a sickening snap and grabbed for Kíli’s arm.   
“Kíli!”   
He turned to look at me as the current sucked us out and all I saw was the agony in his face as the water pulled us under.

I caught a glimpse of the white surface of the rapids before I was pulled under again. The water was everywhere; in the barrel, in my hair, my eyes, my throat, my lungs. The sides of my barrel were pierced with arrows and the shouts of both dwarves and orcs echoed all the way down the river. When I finally was surfaced long enough to breathe I saw the orcs chasing us down the shoreline, firing arrows and leaping off the rocks at us. Dwalin had somehow claimed a war axe and was swiping down any orc that leapt too close to him. Thorin had also managed to get hold of a sword and was slashing and parrying as much as the ferocious waters would allow.   
I glanced around for Kíli but the confusion was rampant and I had a hard time spotting any of the company.   
The orcs chasing us then began to fall, struck down by the elves’ arrows as they followed us, not just along the rocks but through the treetops.   
One orc was struck down just as I was passing underneath it and I grabbed its arm as it fell, wresting its awful, jagged sword from its grip.   
The next orc I passed lost its lower leg to my well-aimed slash and toppled into the rapids. I looked ahead to see an orc running across a fallen branch above the river just as Balin was passing underneath it. As it leapt down Thorin threw his sword, pinning the orc to the branch through the chest at causing it to drop its weapon. Thorin then threw it behind him to Dwalin, who threw it to Nori, who yelled at me to duck before throwing it behind me to Fíli. I turned to see Fíli take down another orc as it made to leap onto his barrel.   
“Fíli!” I screamed at him. “Where’s Kíli?”   
Fíli pointed to his left and I followed his gaze to see Kíli lolled against the side of his barrel, looking as if he was struggling to stay conscious.   
“Kíli!” I shouted to him and he looked towards me, only to point and shout:  
“Behind you!”   
I turned in time to see an orc throw a large spear in my direction and with a quick swing of the sword I parried it away.   
Dwalin, meanwhile, had grabbed an orc from the shoreline and headbutted it into the river as he wrenched its axe from its grip.   
“Cut the log!” Thorin yelled from in front of me and I turned to see him hacking at another fallen log as he passed underneath it. Dwalin followed suit with his axe and the log finally split, plunging the orcs gathered on it into the river. One orc surfaced in front of me, grabbing onto my barrel with a snarl and pulling it forward. I ran my sword through its neck as the barrel tipped forward, plunging me headfirst into the rapids.   
For many long moments I surged underwater, upside down in the barrel as the current pulled us along. The barrel then smashed into a rock and I was trapped with a panicked scream. I swallowed and inhaled the water rushing past me as I kicked desperately away from the barrel. Eventually the current caught me and swept me away from the barrel towards the surface.  
When I surfaced again I could hear Kíli yelling my name and searched for him, reaching my arm up desperately. Within seconds a hand locked around my wrist, pulling me sharply against the edge of a barrel. I gripped the edge, coughing up water violently into the barrel while another hand gripped the soaking material of my shirt. I looked up to see Bofur, hanging onto me for dear life, his hat miraculously still perched on his head.  
I could hear Kíli still calling for me and looked around for him, only to be distracted by the sight of an orc stabbing a spear into Bombur’s barrel, impaling itself on the other end and becoming trapped against a rock, causing Bombur’s barrel to be vaulted up out of the water and onto the shore, rolling down the shore like a boulder and crushing any orcs in his way. Each impact caused the barrel to splinter, until eventually he stopped and, having grabbed a weapon in each hand, stood and began to battle his way through a throng of orcs. He made it back to the river and tossed the two weapons to Thorin and Dwalin before leaping into an empty barrel.   
_My barrel,_ I thought.   
As if that wasn’t enough, the blonde elf who had captured us leapt from the rocks to perch on top of Dwalin and Dori’s heads, firing arrows into the orcs still chasing us along the shore. He then hopped incredibly gracefully onto each of the dwarves’ heads back towards the shore, replacing his bow with his knives to battle the orcs running towards us.   
_Show-off.  
_ With a shout, Thorin threw the axe he was holding towards the elf and I turned to see it impale the orc that was sneaking up behind him.   
_Well there’s something I never thought I’d see. Or rather, something else._  
The current picked up and sped us away from the orcs and elves alike. We could hear them yelling and cursing in their foul language but there was no keeping up with us now.   
I turned to Bofur who was looking decidedly green.   
“Don’t you dare throw up on me!” I said to him with a glare.   
“No promises, lass.” He responded with a groan. “Don’t you let go!”   
“I’ll do my best!”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah miscommunication...


	9. The Bargeman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit lengthier than the last ones, but it's Bard so it's okay.  
> Also, Vana and Kíli are a pair of stubborn goats, bless them.

_ Vana _

The current eventually slowed, until the dwarves had to paddle to keep themselves moving. My arms were aching from hanging on to Bofur’s barrel and I didn’t even want to think about the bruises that would be littering my chest and stomach from being bashed against it. The river was widening and ahead of us we could see it open out into a calm lake, gradually being shrouded in a cold, grey mist.  
“Anything behind us?” Thorin called.  
“Not that I can see.” Balin answered him.  
“They won’t give up,” I muttered, searching the shore line for any approaching orcs.  
_They’re hunting us and they won’t stop.  
_ I turned around to see the barrel I was still clinging onto was now missing a dwarf.  
“Bofur!”  
He emerged, spitting water out of his mouth and shaking his head, as if dazed.  
“Did you faint?” I raised an eyebrow.  
“I’m not exactly used to water, lass,” he groaned.  
I rolled my eyes and called to Thorin. “I think we’ve outrun the orcs for now!”  
“Not for long,” he responded. “We’ve lost the current. Make for the shore!”  
“Bombur’s half-drowned!” Dwalin shouted.  
“Come on, let’s go!”  
I then spotted Kíli, paddling his barrel towards the shore, obviously still in pain. I let go of Bofur’s barrel and began to swim towards him, ignoring Bofur’s protests. My clothes were heavy with the water soaked into them and my limbs ached but I had to get to him, stubborn idiot as he was.  
“Kíli,” I gasped, accidentally swallowing more water. He whipped around to see me coming, staring wide-eyed at me.  
“What are you doing?” he asked and I could hear the pain he was trying to mask in his voice.  
“Helping you, you stupid goat.” I groaned and grabbed the side of his barrel, guiding him towards the flatter rocks on the shore.  
“I don’t need help!”  
“You’ve been shot and nearly drowned, of course you need help.”  
I reached the rocks and crawled through the shallow waters, dragging his barrel onto the rocks.  
The others were gradually finding their way to shore; Dwalin hauled a very shaken Ori out of his barrel and to his feet while Thorin, who was already out of his barrel began to pace the rocks shouting for Bilbo. I stood and extended a hand down to help Kíli but he ignored it, getting to his feet and limping onto the shore.  
“Kíli, your leg is bleeding,” I told him, eyeing the red seeping into the blue material of his trousers. I looked up to see his face but he only turned away from me, causing me to notice something else.  
“And your hair clasp is missing.”  
_Along with my courting braid…_  
I immediately raised a hand to my own and found that his clasp was gone too, along with Dwalin’s and subsequently my braids. My leather hair tie still held my long braid together, though it was coming loose now.  
Kíli ignored me again and kept walking until his leg gave way and he collapsed, groaning loudly.  
“Kíli!” I knelt next him and reached for his leg.  
“Don’t,” he said, shying away from me.  
“Kíli just let me take a look.”  
“It’s fine.”  
“You need -”  
“I don’t need help!” he growled, fixing me with an icy glare, worthy of Thorin. I met his vicious gaze before huffing and stomping away, almost knocking Fíli over in my haste as he made his way towards his brother.  
“BILBO!” Thorin was still yelling, his eyes wide and fierce.  
“Here! He’s here!” Nori called from behind us and I looked back to see a sodden Bilbo being half-dragged by Nori to the shore. Breathing a sigh of relief I went to help Dori haul Bombur to his feet.  
“Stupid, stubborn princes,” I muttered under my breath.  
“Trust me lass,” Dori grumbled. “We’ve all got bigger problems than your lovers’ tiff.”  
“It’s not a lovers’ tiff!” I hissed as Bombur finally made it upright. “It’s Kíli being an egotistical, pig-headed -”  
 “On your feet!” Thorin’s angry order cut me off. I turned to see him stalking past Fíli and Bofur crouched next to Kíli who was pressing a strip of material into the wound on his leg.  
_Oh, I see. You need help, just not_ my _help._  
“Kíli’s wounded,” Fíli turned to his uncle. “His leg needs binding.”  
“There’s an orc pack on our tail,” Thorin snapped, pacing the rocks. “We keep moving.”  
“To where?” Balin asked pointedly.  
“To the Mountain,” Bilbo said, walking up beside him. “We’re so close.”  
Balin sighed impatiently. “A lake lies between us and that mountain. We have no way to cross it.”  
“So then we go round.” I offered.  
“The orcs’ll run us down,” Dwalin grumbled. “Sure as daylight. And we have no weapons to defend ourselves.”  
“Bind his leg, quickly,” Thorin said exasperatedly. “You have two minutes.”  
I frowned at his impatience, glancing at Kíli who was wincing as Fíli wrapped the strip of material around his leg.  
I stepped up on a higher piece of rock to look back along the river bank, keeping watch for any orcs.  
A hand suddenly grasped my shoulder, pulling me sharply backwards so I fell to the ground with a startled yelp. I looked up to see a man, armed with a huge longbow, standing with his back to me and firing two arrows, one embedding itself in a stick Dwalin had grabbed as a weapon and the other knocking a rock out of Kíli’s hand as he made to throw it. The man nocked a third arrow, pointing it at the company.  
“Do it again,” he hissed. “And you’re dead.”  
With a snarl I leapt up, grabbed his quiver, yanked him backwards and grabbed one of his arrows. He swore as he stumbled backwards, dropping his bow and I pinned him with my knee to his chest and his own arrow point pressed against the hollow of his throat.  
“Touch me again, and _you’re_ dead,” I threatened, my lips pulling back in a snarl and his large green eyes met my own. He didn’t look afraid, I noted. _More…impressed?_  
“Lassie,” Balin’s voice called warningly from behind me. I turned and he shook his head. Reluctantly, I shifted my knee off the man’s chest and stood, moving into a defensive stance as he stood up. Balin stepped in front of me, his hands raised to show he was unarmed.  
“Excuse me, but you’re from Lake-town if I’m not mistaken?”  
The man dusted himself off, still gripping his bow, and nodded stiffly at the old dwarf.  
“That barge over there,” Balin indicated a large boat anchored a little way down the shore that I hadn’t noticed. “It wouldn’t be available for hire would it?”  
The man regarded him with a frown for a moment before stowing his dropped arrow back in his quiver and shouldering his bow.  
“I’m a bargeman,” he said dryly. “I’m only here to pick up the barrels.” He strode past us towards the abandoned barrels washed up on the rocks and began to roll them towards the barge.  
“Aye, well we’d be happy to pay extra for your time and your services,” Balin said cheerily.  
“And what would you be needing in Lake-town?”  
“We’re just passing through, but we find ourselves a little out of the way and in need of transport.”    
The bargeman only grunted in response as he rolled the barrel onto the barge. He turned back for the next one. As he rolled the second one back he caught my eye and paused, extending a hand out to me. I eyed it warily until he chuckled, at which point I fought the urge to punch him  
“My arrow, if you please?” he said, extending his hand further. I gingerly placed it into his hand and he stowed it in his quiver before returning to the barrels.  
He continued rolling the barrels into the barge as Balin and Thorin had a quick and quiet discussion. Meanwhile Fíli approached me, leaving Kíli leaning against a rock.  
“Are you alright?” He asked me, shooting a dirty look at the bargeman.  
“I’m fine,” I replied softly. “How’s your brother?”  
“He’s putting on a brave face.”  
“Is it bad?”  
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” He raised an eyebrow and I glared at his condescension.  
“He made it very clear he doesn’t want me to.”  
“He’s just trying not to appear weak in front of Thorin.” Fíli whispered.  
“I thought being injured wasn’t a sign of weakness.” I thought of the scars on my back and my jaw clenched.  
“I know, but I guess it feels different when you’re the one who’s injured.”  
I glanced around at Kíli, who was staring at Fíli’s back with a death glare.  
“I don’t think he’ll be too happy you’re talking to me about this.” I pointed out.  
“Well he’s my little brother, he can’t boss me around. That’s my job.”  
“Then you should tell him to have Óin look at his leg and stop being an idiot.” I hissed, walking towards Dwalin, sick to death of Kíli’s glares.  
_Excuse me for caring!_  
“What are you thinking?” I asked Dwalin, who was searching around for any sign of trouble.  
“This is taking too long,” he said softly with a glance back to Balin. “We need to get out of here, not barter with a mouthy bargeman.”  
“He might be our best bet,” I said, glancing towards the bargeman who was now on his last barrel.  
“Well, if he lays a hand on you again, he’ll be sinking to the bottom of this river in one of his own barrels.”  
“Good to know,” I smirked and patted his shoulder.  
“Well, good sir,” Balin addressed the bargeman again. “We’ve counted our remaining coins and we believe it will be sufficient to pay our passage through Lake-town. All we need is a willing host.”  
“What makes you think I would help you?” the man asked, rolling the final barrel onto the barge.  
“Those boots have seen better days,” Balin pointed out with a kind smile. “As has that coat. And no doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?”  
The man looked up at him, suspicion giving way to a small smile at the mention of his children.  
“A boy and two girls,” he answered.  
“And your wife? I imagine she’s a beauty?”  
“Aye, she was.” The man’s smiled faded and he looked around sadly, his eyes falling on me. I shifted uncomfortably and felt Dwalin bristle beside me.  
“I’m sorry,” Balin said, embarrassed at his fluke. “I didn’t mean to -”  
“Oh come on, enough of the niceties,” Dwalin grumbled.  
“What’s your hurry?” The bargeman frowned at Dwalin.  
“What’s it to you?” Dwalin retorted.  
“I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands.” Again, his eyes went to me.  
“We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains,” Balin told him. “Journeying to see or kin in the Iron Hills.”  
“Simple merchants you say,” the bargeman raised a sceptical eyebrow before fixing his gaze on me. “And what about you?”  
“What about me?” I crossed my arms defensively over my chest as his eyes bore into me.  
“You don’t tend to see a lone woman travelling with a company of dwarven _merchants_?” He deliberately emphasised the word ‘merchant’ with an amused glance at Balin. I, personally, was growing sick if the implication that I was a travelling concubine.  
“Is there any law prohibiting a woman travelling with whom she pleases?”  
“I suppose not,” the man smirked.  
Before I could respond, Thorin strode in front of me and up next to Balin. “We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?”  
The bargeman regarded him before looking more closely at the barrels, rubbing the notches where the arrows had struck them.  
“I know where these barrels came from,” he said cryptically.  
“What of it?” Thorin asked with a glower.  
“I don’t know what business you had with the elves, but I don’t think it ended well.” He paused to gather up the rope anchoring his barge to the shoreline. “No one enters Lake-town but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil.” With that, he tossed the rope to Balin, who looked questioningly at Thorin.  
“Offer him more.” Thorin hissed, earning himself a grunt of annoyance from Balin.  
“I’ll wager there are ways to enter his town unseen?” Balin said to the bargeman.  
“Aye,” the bargeman gave a slow nod. “But for that you would need a smuggler.”  
“For which we would pay double.” Balin implored. The bargeman looked at him for a few moments before glancing around at the rest of us. Eventually, he sighed and nodded us on board.  
“You’ll have to hide in the barrels when we approach Lake-town. Don’t make a noise and do exactly as I tell you.”  
Dwalin grumbled incoherently next to me as he got onto the boat. As I stepped on board I turned to the bargeman.  
“Thank you, you really are saving us a lot of trouble.”  
“I don’t doubt it,” he raised his eyebrows and stepped on board after Fíli and Kíli. Kíli managed to stumble to the front of the boat and, on Fíli’s orders, sat on an upturned crate to rest his leg.  
I kept my distance, not feeling at all like putting up with his dirty looks or sullen expressions. _After all he doesn’t need_ my _help._  
The bargeman took hold of the rudder and began to steer the barge away from the shore. Slowly it sailed further out into the lake and into the approaching fog bank. The fog felt icy against my exposed skin and sent a chill running through me. It didn’t help that my clothes were still soaked through and now felt as if they would never dry. The wool of the corset was stiffening from the damp and I unlaced it slightly to loosen it, eventually giving up and taking it off completely. My shirt flapped loosely over my torso and I let out a sigh at the freedom, dumping the corset on the ground next to me. I then untied my braid, letting my hair fall loosely over my shoulders so I comb it through with my fingers.  
“How are you doing Vana?” Bilbo appeared next to me, his arms clasped around himself. He, at least, still had his red coat.  
“Oh fine,” I shrugged. “Great. Super. Never better. Yourself?”  
“I’m cold,” he said honestly. “But you? Aren’t you freezing?” He eyed my shirt, only to look away with a flushed face. I looked down and noticed the white material had gone rather translucent in its dampness.  
“Oh Bilbo,” I giggled. “It’s no secret what’s under here, don’t worry. I have bigger problems.”  
“Right, yeah, it’s just…” Bilbo was determined to look anywhere but at me. I had to laugh at his attempted chivalry.  
“Sorry, I’ll put it back on.” I chuckled and picked up the corset. I placed it around my front and reached behind me to tie it, only to wince as my aching muscles and numb fingers were making it hard to reach the laces properly.  
“Bilbo,” I glanced around at him. “Sorry, again, but I might need some help.”  
“Help?” Bilbo glanced at the corset, his eyes growing wide and his face a deeper shade of red than his coat. “Oh, well, I –uh -”    
“I can help you,” the bargeman’s gruff voice came from behind me and I turned to face him. “If you don’t mind of course?”  
“You know how to tie a corset?” I raised an eyebrow, mimicking his earlier expressions. He chuckled at this.  
“I had a wife, remember? We were married ten years before she passed away. I know my way around women’s clothing.”  
I could feel the warmth of Bilbo’s blush behind me but I refused to be intimidated by this bargeman.  
“Alright, if you think you’re up to it.” I turned my back to him and he took the ties from my hands and began pulling them taut.  
“So –uh -” Bilbo, looked uncomfortably around him, clearly debating whether or not he could leave without appearing rude. “What – eh – I’m sorry I never asked your name?”  
“Bard,” the man answered him before addressing me in a low voice. “It’s not too tight is it?”  
“It’s fine,” I replied, looking over to the company, many of whom were shooting disapproving looks at me. I caught Dwalin’s eye and nodded to indicate I was alright and he narrowed his eyes but made no move to come over. His gaze did never left Bard.  
“So, do I get to know your names?” Bard asked, finishing the final tie on the back of my corset.  
“Bilbo Baggins,” said Bilbo.  
“Vana,” I answered, turning to face him. He stood the best part of a foot taller than me and I had to crane my neck slightly to meet his gaze. Bard, however, was looking quizzically at Bilbo.  
“You are a hobbit?”  
“Uh, yes…” Bilbo frowned a little.  
“Dwarves are a rare enough sight, but hobbits,” Bard smiled slightly at Bilbo. “Hobbits are almost unheard of. May I ask what brings you this far east?”  
“Oh, well, you know,” Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, letting out a nervous laugh. “The promise of adventure.”  
Bard nodded and Bilbo quickly excused himself before going back over to Thorin.  
“And how do you fit into all this, Vana?” He asked.  
“These dwarves are my family. I’ve been with them for as long as I can remember.”  
“Is that so?” He raised his eyebrow again and I narrowed my eyes into a glare.  
“Why? What do you think I am doing with them?”  
“I have no idea,” he took a step backwards, innocence spreading across his face. “It’s not often you see a woman travelling with dwarves, is all. These days it’s not often you see dwarves.”  
“Well, it’s as my uncle said, we’re travelling to the Iron Hills. His cousin lives there.”  
“Your uncle?” Bard’s eyes went to Balin, who was counting out coins for him.  
“Aye, his brother adopted me. He’s the only father I’ve ever known.”  
“Which is he? Your father?”  
“The one who looks like he wants to eviscerate you.”  
Bard glanced over my shoulder and smirked. “There’s a few of them.”  
I looked back to find Dwalin, as expected, resting his arms on top of a barrel and glaring at Bard, but also Kíli, sitting against the side of the barge with a face like thunder. His eyes found mine briefly and I looked away back to Bard.  
“The other one’s just having a bad day. He hurt his leg and refuses to do anything about it.”  
I gasped as cold shiver ran through me. Bard immediately undid the ties of his coat and wrapped it around me before I could protest.  
“We don’t want you catching your death before we reach the town.”  
My pride told me to refuse but the inside of the coat was lined with a soft pelt and it was so incredibly warm that I ended up wrapping it around me like a child.  
“Thank you,” I smiled at the bargeman.  
“You’re very welcome,” his smile was warm and made little creases appear next to his eyes, which were a deep shade of green. I quickly looked away so I wouldn’t stare.  
“So, how old are your children?”  
“Sigrid, my eldest, just turned sixteen. Bain, my son, is fourteen and little Tilda is eight.”

_ Kíli  _

He didn’t like this bargeman. He didn’t like the way he was looking at Vana, he didn’t like how he wrapped his coat around her, he didn’t like how Vana was smiling at him. No, he didn’t like this bargeman one bit.  
“Kíli?”  
“What?” He snapped round at his brother.  
“I asked you if your leg was hurting?”  
“It’s fine, I told you. The arrow snapped off when I hit the barrel. It’s just a flesh wound now.”  
“Kee -”  
“Fíli, shut up.” Kíli caught sight of Thorin looking over at him and immediately sat up straighter, ignoring the painful twinge in his leg. The cold at least was numbing the ache, but he was sure he just needed to rest it and wait for the bleeding to stop.  
The sound of laughter reached his ears and he looked back to see Vana chuckling and shaking her head at the bargeman while he smiled a little too warmly at her.  
“What do you suppose they’re so happy about?” Kíli mumbled.  
“I have no idea,” Fíli sighed. “Maybe he said something funny.”  
“You know your wisdom never ceases to amaze me.”  
“Kíli, if you want to talk to her then go and talk to her. Do you expect her to just sit quietly by herself until you swallow your pride.”  
“ _My_ pride?” Kíli scoffed. “Did you hear her back in the cells, Fíli? Telling me not to talk to Tauriel because she’s an elf?”  
“I did.” Fíli nodded, frowning slightly.  
“Explain that to me, please. Vana’s always been fascinated by the elves, despite what many of our kin might say about them. Why would she suddenly change her mind?”  
“She was angry, Kíli. She was ill and the elves back there treated her like a stray dog. Anyone would react as she did.”  
“You heard -!”  
“I heard _you_ assume she was jealous and her tell you she wasn’t.” Fíli said, raising an eyebrow with such condescension that Kíli couldn’t help scowling.  
“Why are you taking her side?”  
“I’m not taking sides,” Fíli groaned, running both hands over his face. “I’m reminding you of what she actually said, not your interpretations of what she said. Now, for the love of Mahal and his hammer, stop complaining to me and go talk to her! You’re courting, you’re supposed to be inseparable, not arguing and then ignoring each other like an old married couple!”  
Kíli huffed, leaning back against the side of the boat. He didn’t trust himself to talk to her now, not with the bargeman so close by – close enough to punch. He glanced over to find him making his way back up to the rudder while Vana came back over to the Company.  
“Enjoying yourself?” The words came out of his mouth as she passed before he could stop himself. Vana paused to glare down at him and he met her narrowed eyes shamelessly.  
“Immensely,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And you?”  
“Not as much as you, clearly.”  
Vana only rolled her eyes and walked over to stand beside Dwalin. Kíli turned to see his brother frowning at him.  
“What?”  
Fíli only shook his head.

_ Vana _

Large stone structures were starting to loom out of the fog. They seemed to be the remains of a waterborne city, now reduced to shards of stone abandoned in a lake. Bard had returned to the rudder to steer us through the ruins and I watched them as they passed. “Watch out!” Bofur shouted, his voice echoing off the stone ruins.  
The boat veered to the sharply to the left as Bard expertly steered the barge around one that had appeared in front of us, no hint of panic on his serious face.  
“What are you trying to do, drown us?” Thorin growled loudly at the bargeman.  
“I was born and bred on these waters Master Dwarf.” Bard glared at him. “If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here.”  
“Oh I’ve had enough of this lippy lakeman,” Dwalin hissed to us, scowling at Bard. “I say we throw him over the side and be done with it.”  
At this, Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Oh, Bard. His name is Bard.”  
“How do you know?” Bofur asked.  
“Uh, I asked him,” Bilbo said, blinking sarcastically at the toymaker.  
Dwalin was less amused. “I don’t care what he calls himself, I don’t like him.”  
“You don’t like anyone you grumpy old sod,” I smirked as Dwalin’s scowl moved from Bard to myself.  
“We do not have to _like_ him,” Balin said pointedly before Dwalin could respond. “We simply have to pay him. Come on now lads, turn out your pockets.”  
“Here,” I dug the few forgotten coins out of my trouser pockets and set them on the upturned crate in front of Balin. “The rest is in my coat, which is probably at the bottom of a cavern somewhere in Mirkwood.”  
“Lucky for you, you have a nice new one,” Kíli muttered and I glared at him.  
“You’re right, it is nice, and warm and dry, however shall I find a way to thank the handsome bargeman?”  
“I’m sure you’ll find a way -”  
“That’s enough!” Fíli snapped and the two of us sat in a snide silence.  
“How do we know he won’t betray us?” I heard Dwalin whisper to Thorin.  
“We don’t,” he replied.  
“I don’t think he will,” I offered and they both looked around at me questioningly.  
“And you know this how?” Thorin asked with narrowed eyes.  
I simply shrugged. “He’s a bargeman who needs some extra money to feed his hungry, motherless children. At least give him a chance to keep his word before you throw him off his own boat.”  
“There’s just a wee problem,” Balin muttered, counting out his small coin piles. “We’re ten coins short.”  
“Glóin,” Thorin sighed and looked to the red-headed dwarf, crossing his arms. “Come on, give us what you have.”  
“Don’t look to me!” Glóin protested. “I have been bled dry by this venture! And what have I seen for my investment?”  
I couldn’t help but scoff at the irony of his words, thinking of the scars on my back. He didn’t appear to have heard me and carried on, meanwhile everyone else seemed to ignore him as their eyes found something peering through the clouds. I followed their gaze and found the dark, shadowy peak peering through the fog bank. It was the Lonely Mountain; so close we could see the jagged rock faces decorating the sides. Even Kíli managed to stand on his sore leg to look at his new home. I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to hold his hand, to share the moment with him.  
Glóin’s tune was changed mid-sentence. “Nought but misery and grief and… Oh, bless my beard. Take it, take all of it!” He emptied his hidden coin pouch onto the crate.  
The moment was interrupted by Bilbo’s loud cough and we turned to see Bard striding down the deck, his hand outstretched.  
“The money, quick. Give it to me.”  
“We will pay you when we get our provisions but not before.” Thorin replied darkly.  
Bard only fixed him with a worried look. “If you value your freedom you’ll do as I say. There are guards ahead.”  
We all glanced around to see the fog giving way to a distant dock, and a little way behind that stood a floating city of wood that could only be Lake-town. I hadn’t realised exactly how literal that name was.  
“What do we do?” I turned to Bard, removing his coat to give it back to him. He took it with a nod and addressed us all.  
“All of you get back in the barrels and do not make a sound. I have some business with the men on the docks and then I will sneak you in. You must not move until I say you can. The Master will not hesitate to throw you all in cells and me too if he finds you.”  
The dwarves and Bilbo all turned to Thorin who nodded his concurrence before clambering back into the barrels with a lot of muttered curses.  
Fíli had to help Kíli into his barrel, much to Kíli’s obvious irritation and I glanced worryingly at him as I climbed into my own barrel next to his.  
“How’s your leg?” I whispered to him.  
“We’re not supposed to make a sound,” he muttered darkly before ducking down into his barrel. I could only sigh in response.

All we could hear from within our barrels was the water beneath us hitting the wood and some inaudible chatter.  
Bilbo was the only one who could vaguely see what was happening through a small hole in the side of his barrel.  
“What’s he doing?” Dwalin hissed at the hobbit.  
“He’s talking to someone,” was the response. I sighed and drummed my fingers against the wood.  
“He’s pointing right at us…”  
My fingers paused and I could practically hear the rest of the dwarves tensing up.  
“Now they’re shaking hands!”  
“What?!” Thorin hissed a little too loudly.  
“That villain!” Dwalin growled. “He’s selling us out!”  
“No…” I whispered too quietly for them to hear. The blood began drumming in my ears so I could barely hear the approaching footsteps and the clanking of machinery, followed by the most abhorrent smell.   
“Is that -?” My hushed question was cut off as I was suddenly pounded by a huge pile of cold, wet, dead fish. They poured the stinking creatures into our barrels until they piled up to the top, completely surrounding our entire bodies, including our heads. It was nearly impossible to breathe without gagging on the stench and any movement caused the wet, slippery scales to slide against my skin.   
I felt the boat lurch as it began to move again and soon I could hear groans from my neighbouring barrels, followed by a loud thump.   
“Quiet!” Bard’s hiss was muffled by the fact that I was entombed in dead fish – something which I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive. “We’re approaching the tollgate.”


	10. This, Master Baggins, is the World of Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company enter Lake-town. Vana meets Bard's children and finds herself the quintessential go-between, much to her chagrin.   
> \-- Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!

_ Vana _

“Halt!” came a loud cry from outside the wooden fish dungeon. “Goods inspection! Papers please? Oh it’s you Bard.” The voice softened.   
“Morning, Percy.” Bard’s voice greeted the other.   
“Anything to declare?”   
“Nothing, but that I am cold and tired and ready for home.”   
“You and me both.”   
The boat came to a sudden stop and I could hear Bard’s footsteps passing my barrel.   
“There we are,” Percy’s voice came again. “All in order.”   
“Not so fast,” another voice joined them; the type of voice that made my skin crawl – at least more than it already was from _all the fish I was buried in!  
I will never eat fish again, as long as I live._   
“‘Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm.’ Only, they’re not empty are they, Bard?” His voice became slightly louder as he came closer. “If I recall correctly, you’re licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman.”   
_It’s not every day you hear a voice that’s more disgusting than being covered in rotting fish…  
_ “That’s none of your business.” Bard said softly.   
“Wrong. It’s the Master’s business, which makes it my business.”  
“Come on, Alfrid,” Bard implored. “Have a heart, people need to eat.”   
“These fish are illegal!” Alfrid’s declaration was followed by a small splash. “Empty the barrels over the side.”   
_Oh no._   
“You heard him,” came a gruff voice. “In the canal. Come on, get a move on!”   
I braced my hands against the sides of the barrel, trying to control my breathing. _They’re going to find us!_  
“Folk in this town are struggling,” came Bard’s voice over the sound of wood scraping over wood. “Times are hard. Food is scarce.”   
“That’s not my problem,” Alfrid said in a bored voice.   
“And when the people hear the Master is dumping fish back in the lake? When the rioting starts? Will it be your problem then?”   
After a few moments of more splashing as the fish left the barrels, Alfrid finally stopped them and I relaxed.   
“Ever the people’s champion, eh Bard?” he sneered. “Protector of the common folk? You might have their favour now bargeman, but it won’t last.”   
I could hear the footsteps of the guards leaving the boat, followed by Percy’s order to raise the gate and then the boat started moving again.   
“The Master has his eye on you!” Alfrid’s voice sounded again in a poor attempt to sound threatening. “You’d do well to remember we know where you live!”  
“It’s a small town, Alfrid,” Bard replied, unmoved. “Everyone knows where everyone lives.”   
With that, the barge sailed further and further into the town. I could hear the chatter of various people outside, and the occasional footsteps of those running past us, before eventually the barge stopped once more.   
I could have sworn I was about to pass out from the smell of the fish when a loud thump, a startled yelp and a lot of wet squelching sounded from somewhere next to me. Another similar series of noises reached my ears and then my barrel tipped forward and I slid gracelessly out onto the deck onto a pile of fish. This time I did gag, trying to find a grip on the deck to push myself up. Instead, two large hands took hold of my arms and pulled me effortlessly to my feet.   
“You alright?” Bard asked, picking a fish off the top of my head.   
“Next time, I’ll take my own chances with your friend Alfrid,” I muttered, combing my fingers through my hair and searching for scales.   
“He’s not my friend,” Bard replied with a small smirk before moving to the next barrel. He gripped the sides of it ready to pull it forward until Dwalin’s furious face popped out of it.   
“Get your hands off me!” he growled and Bard backed away with his hands raised.   
Thorin, Ori and Óin were the next to burst out of their barrels, followed by Bilbo, who wasn’t quite tall enough to clamber out himself.   
“Here,” I went to him and lifted him under his arms until he could swing his leg out.   
“Thank you,” he said, visibly shuddering as the fish slid from him.   
“You didn’t see them,” I heard Bard saying and turned to see him pressing a few coins into the hands of a bewildered onlooker. “They were never here. The fish you can have for nothing.”   
The man nodded once and watched as we all filed onto the dock.   
“Stay close,” Bard told us and walked briskly ahead of us so we had no choice but to follow. He paused to peer around a corner before telling us to follow him and walking ahead.   
“What is this place?” Bilbo asked quietly.   
“This, Master Baggins, is the world of Men.” Thorin’s voice was a dark grumble as he followed Bard.

The entire town stood on the water, which meant every walkway was made of damp wood. The smell of fish, I realised, wasn’t just us, but literally everywhere. The houses were bent and rickety and many looked as if they might fall in the lake at any moment. Everywhere people were either milling about on the docks or sitting in boats with fishing nets and crates. I was a little confused by the fact he was leading us right through a crowd of people but most of them seemed to be blatantly ignoring us, while the rest spared us a glance before going back to whatever they were doing.   
“Keep your heads down, keep moving.” Bard ordered, directing us over a wooden plank to another dock. “Quickly now.”   
There was loud grunt from behind me followed by a heavy weight against my back. I grabbed a wooden post next to me so I wouldn’t slip and turned to see Kíli leaning heavily on my shoulder, gripping my arm almost painfully.   
“Are you alright?” I gently shoved him upright again, my hands on his shoulders. His face was contorted in pain for a moment before he quickly reset it into the stony expression he seemed to be saving just for me.   
“Fine,” he grunted, nudging himself out of my grip. “Just slipped.”   
Behind his shoulder, I could see a passing guard looking around the dock, but before I could warn them he raised his hand to point at us.   
“Halt!”   
“Come on, move!” Thorin ordered gruffly before darting in between some crowded market stalls. We followed quickly so we under the balcony of a nearby house.   
“In the name of the Master of Lake-town, I said halt!”   
“What do we do?” I hissed.   
“Get back!” Thorin called and I turned to see another guard in front running towards us. I was now sandwiched between a whole crowd of dwarves who were fumbling for anything that might be used as a weapon. Ori found a mop which he quickly used to hit a guard in the face while Bombur crouched behind him, tripping him up. Another guard was tripped by Dori and fell hard against a wooden post. I tossed an abandoned oar to Balin who swung it into the stomach of another guard before he was knocked out by Thorin. Meanwhile, Fíli crouched behind a table and grabbed a length of rope, tossing the other end to Kíli who sat opposite him and pulled it taut to trip a fourth guard who was then knocked out by an angry Nori wielding a saucepan.   
In the few seconds it had taken for all of this to happen, Bard had caught up with us and was looking at us all in horror.   
_So much for the sneaking_.  
I helped Fíli drag his knocked out guard under a table while the residents of Lake-town watched, not quite sure what had just happened. They all quickly returned to their duties as another group of guards appeared, having heard the disturbance.   
“What’s going on 'ere?” The guard asked gruffly. “Stay where you are, nobody leaves!”   
The dwarves ducked out of sight and I searched quickly for a hiding place only to have a shawl draped over my head.   
“Here,” Bard hissed in my ear. “Keep quiet.” With that he marched back out onto the dock.   
“Braga,” he greeted the guard cheerfully. I saw the guard peer at him through tiny little eyes. He had dirty brown hair and an unkempt moustache that did not fit well with his gleaming armour and red cape. The other guards were all dressed similarly and stood out like mould on bread compared to the simply dressed fishermen and women they were surrounded by, many of whom had patches sewn onto their clothes. I tried not to look directly at them, pretending to browse some plants on a nearby stall.   
“You,” Braga sneered at him. “What are you up to Bard?”   
“Me?” Bard asked innocently. “Nothing. I’m looking for nothing.”   
Beneath my feet the guard stowed behind the table was beginning to stir, but before I could react, the woman next to me, who had watched the entire exchange with interest, subtly tipped a pot over the edge of the table to land on his head, knocking him out again. I suppressed a grin before Braga suddenly caught my eye, having heard the noise.   
“I’m sorry,” I said to the woman, kneeling down to pick up the pot. “I’m so clumsy!”   
“No matter, miss,” she said kindly. “It’s not broken. No charge.”   
I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see Braga peering at me suspiciously before making his way towards the stall. People around the stalls quickly put boxes and piles of nets in front of the knocked out guards to shield them from view. Braga peered around, confused before Bard caught his attention.   
“Hey, Braga. Your wife would look lovely in this.”   
I gaped. He was holding up a corset.   
“What do you know of my wife?” Braga asked, taking a step towards him.   
Bard only shrugged innocently. “I know her as well as any man in this town.”   
I quickly turned away to hide my suppressed laughter. When I turned around again, the guards were gone. I folded up the shawl and put it on a nearby stall, waving the dwarves out of their hiding place.   
We followed Bard through the town quickly and quietly, constantly searching for more guards. Before too long we were stopped by a young brown-haired boy running up to Bard.   
“Da!” He called softly before whispering to him. “Our house. It’s being watched.” He looked away from Bard to peer curiously at us. I smiled at him politely, which only seemed to confuse him more.   
Bard turned to us with a frown.   
“Can all of you swim?”

“This is worse than the fish,” I muttered through chattering teeth. The water beneath Bard’s house was freezing and my legs were beginning to go numb.   
“You would rather go back in with the rotting fish?” Ori whispered with a visible shudder. “I’d rather drown in water than drown in fish.”   
“We’ll freeze before we drown!” I hissed. “And don’t forget the part where we have to climb through the toilet!”   
“Will the two of yeh shut it!” Dwalin growled. “It’s bad enough we have to do it, let alone talk about it as well!”   
“Gah! Something touched me!” I retched.   
“Pipe down!” Thorin hissed. “All of you!”   
We waited in disgusted silence, trying not to look in the water surrounding us or think what has recently been in the water surrounding us before finally three knocks sounded above our heads and Dwalin pulled himself onto the wood and lifted his head through the hole that was the toilet.   
“If you speak of this to anyone, I’ll rip your arms off,” he growled at Bain before lifting the seat up and climbing through. When Bain offered him a hand up, he only growled and smacked the hand away. Once he was through, Bilbo followed, accepting Bain’s helping hand with a face that could only be described as mentally scarred. I nudged Ori in front of me and followed after he was through. I accepted Bain’s helping hand and then made my way up the stairs into the house. I looked up to see a tall girl with dark blonde hair, who I assumed to be Sigrid, watching the whole scene in confusion.   
“Da,” she said almost casually. “Why are there dwarves climbing out of our toilet?”   
“Will they bring us luck?” Another, much younger voice came from the top of the stairs and when I got there it turned out to be a much smaller girl with the same dark blonde hair and huge, round blue eyes.   
“I don’t know about luck, but we do have a hobbit,” I pointed at Bilbo, who was wringing water out of the corner of his coat.   
“Are you a dwarf?” The little girl, Tilda, looked at me in fascination.   
“Nope,” I smiled and began to ring the water out of my hair. “Just a very small human I’m afraid.”   
“I thought so. Dwarf women have beards don’t they?”   
“They do, but you’re not supposed to know that.” I winked. “If anyone asks, there are no dwarf women and dwarves come out of holes in the ground.” I placed a finger to my lips.  
Tilda giggled and mimicked the gesture.   
“You’re Tilda, aren’t you?” I knelt down and extended a hand to her. “I’m Vana.”   
She shook my hand eagerly.  
By now, the rest of the company had made their way up the stairs with a series of grumbles and muttered curses. They were also dripping water everywhere.   
“They don’t look too happy,” Tilda whispered.   
“Don’t worry, they’re always grumpy,” I whispered back.   
“Sigrid, Tilda,” Bard called to the girls. “Fetch some clothes for the dwarves will you? Just grab some things from my drawers. Bain, could you lend some clothes to the hobbit?”   
“Come on,” Tilda grabbed my hand and proceeded to try and drag me into the next room. “Sigrid has a dress you can wear! It’s too small for her now and it was going to be mine when I’m bigger but you can have it!”   
“Tilda, leave her alone, she’s exhausted!” Sigrid scolded her little sister.   
“It’s alright,” I smiled and she returned it. “Let’s go see it then.” I allowed myself to be dragged through the next room by Tilda, glancing over my shoulder to find Bard watching the whole exchange with an amused smile – along with Kíli who, of course, wore a sombre expression.  

_ Kíli _

Kíli watched as the little girl chattered away to Vana and led her out of the room. She did it so naturally, as if she had known Vana her whole life, not a few minutes, and Vana let her, smiling at her warmly as if she loved her already. He would have enjoyed it more but his leg was beginning to really pain him. What had been a dull ache interrupted by a few sharp pains when he leaned too much weight on it, had now become a constant burning sensation in his right knee, and he could feel it slowly spreading through his upper leg. The shivering didn’t help, but he only had his sodden shirt and trousers protecting him against the brisk air, serving as a reminder that winter was drawing ever closer.   
“Kíli?” His brother appeared next to him and took his arm. He didn’t even bother to protest this time, knowing it was a waste of breath. Fíli guided him to the bargeman’s wooden table and sat him on a bench before kneeling down to remove his boots.   
“Fíli!” Kíli hissed and yanked his feet from his brother’s grip. “I’m not a child, I can take my own boots off!”   
“Well you’re certainly acting like a child!” Fíli retorted, looking up at his little brother with a look of derision. “When are you going to let Óin look at your leg?”   
“My leg is fine,” Kíli insisted as he peeled his boots off. “It barely hurts anymore.”   
“Then why do you look like you’re about to vomit?”   
“Perhaps because I still smell of dead fish? Or because I climbed out of freezing water through a bargeman’s toilet?”   
“Kíli -”  
“Fee, just leave it,” Kíli whispered as Bain approached them with a pile of shirts and coats. Behind him, Sigrid was handing out clean socks and trousers while Tilda followed with a pile of blankets. He accepted the clothes and all the dwarves began to change once the girls had hurried out of the room.   
“They may not be the best fit,” Bard said to them as he handed out warm mugs of tea. “But they’ll keep you warm.”   
“Thank you,” Fíli said as he accepted his mug. Kíli could only bring himself to grunt in response as he took his. Fíli sighed and picked up Kíli’s wet boots, along with his, to place them in front of the fire.   
Kíli sipped his tea, tugging absent-mindedly on the over-sized clothes until he spotted his uncle staring out of the window, his eyes wide. Kíli frowned and unsteadily got to his feet, fighting back a wince as he made his way towards his uncle whose gaze never left the window.  
“A Dwarvish windlance,” he whispered to himself.   
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Bilbo remarked, wrapping his blanket tightly around himself and sipping his tea. Thorin only looked at him with a slightly pained expression.    
“He has,” Balin said softly to the hobbit. “The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came. The day that Smaug destroyed Dale. Girion, the Lord of the city, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast. But a dragon’s hide is tough; tougher than the strongest armour. Only a black arrow, fired from a windlance, could have pierced the dragon’s hide. And few of those arrows were ever made. The store was running low when Girion made his last stand.”   
Kíli had heard the story before, but it was no less sad this time, nor less frustrating. As if reading his mind, Thorin said softly:  
“Had the aim of Men been true that day, much would have been different.” He glanced at Kíli who returned his sombre expression, before tensing suddenly as Bard stepped up to them.   
“You speak as if you were there,” he observed softly, peering curiously at Thorin.   
“All dwarves know the tale,” Thorin said simply.   
“Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon,” the bargeman’s son said as he came to stand next to his father. “He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast.”   
Behind him, Dwalin was chuckling softly.   
“That’s a fairy story lad,” he said with a sad smile. “Nothing more.”   
“You took our money,” Thorin said, taking a step towards Bard. “Where are the weapons?”   
Bard regarded him for a moment before a loud squeal caught their attention. They turned to see the little girl running towards the doorway where Vana now stood in a pale blue, long-sleeved dress that reached the floor. She blushed as the girl ran up to her and pulled excitedly on her arm so she almost dropped the pile of wet clothes she was carrying.   
“I told you it would fit! I knew it would look nice! Doesn’t she look nice Da?”   
“Come on Tilda,” Bard laughed and went to rescue Vana. “Let the poor woman sit down. You must be freezing, Vana.” He took her wet clothes and hung them over a chair near the fire before removing his coat and wrapping it around her once again. This action made Kíli’s jaw and fists clench and he caught Thorin’s eye with scowl as he fought the urge to push the bargeman into the fire. His rage boiled over as he saw Bard’s fingers reach out to brush a piece of damp hair from her face.   
All at once the dwarves reacted, stepping towards Bard with looks of fury on their faces. Fíli had to lay an unyielding hand against Kíli’s chest to stop him from charging at the Man.   
“What d’yeh think yer doing?” Dwalin growled loudly, causing Tilda to let out a little squeak of fear as her sister and brother stepped protectively in front of her.   
“What do _you_ think you’re doing?” Vana snapped at the dwarves.   
“What’s the problem?” Bard demanded angrily at the sight of his worried children.   
“It’s my hair,” Vana explained hurriedly. “You can’t touch my hair. It’s a very intimate gesture among dwarves.”   
Bard frowned at her but stepped back obligingly. “My apologies, I didn’t realise.”   
“It’s fine,” Vana said, her face flushing a deep red as she glared at the rest of the dwarves, particularly Dwalin. “ _Isn’t it?”_  
They all grudgingly nodded and backed down, though Kíli still glared at the bargeman, earning himself yet another furious look from Vana.   
“Kíli, you should sit down,” Fíli whispered.   
“Fíli, if you tell me to sit down one more time you’re going back down that toilet.”   
“I’d like to see you try with that leg,” Fíli grimaced but relented. “  
Thorin stepped up to Bard once more. “The weapons?”   
“Wait here,” Bard told him gruffly and went back down the stairs.   
Once he had disappeared, Thorin came to stand in front of Kíli and was quickly joined by Balin.   
“How is your leg?” Thorin asked Kíli.   
“It’s fine, uncle,” he lied, ignoring Fíli’s scowl. Thorin nodded once before addressing all of three of them.   
“Tomorrow begins the last day of autumn.”  
“Durin’s Day falls morn after next,” Balin nodded. “We must reach the mountain before then.”  
“And if we do not?” Kíli whispered, thinking back to his conversation with Fíli in Mirkwood. “If we fail to find the hidden door before that time?”   
“Then this quest has been for nothing,” Fíli answered, looking angrily at Thorin.   
Before Thorin could respond, Bard reappeared with a soaking leather bundle he dumped on the table. He unwrapped it to reveal a pile of the most bizarre looking instruments Kíli had ever seen. The rest of the company gathered around to inspect them, each with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.  
Thorin picked up a stick with a few rings of hooked metal on it.   
“What is this?” He demanded.   
“A pike hook,” Bard replied. “Made from an old harpoon.”   
“And this?” Kíli picked up what appeared to be a large lump of stone stuck onto a stick.   
“A crowbill, we call it, fashioned from a smithy’s hammer. It’s heavy in hand I grant, but in defence of your life it will serve you better than none.”   
“We paid you for weapons,” Glóin said angrily. “Iron-forged swords and axes!”   
“It’s a joke!” Bofur cried and the dwarves all threw the ‘weapons’ back onto the table with a loud clatter. Kíli could see Vana rolling her eyes and looking apologetically up at Bard who gave her a small smile in response. Kíli was starting to lose count of the number of times he had wanted to punch this man in the face.   
“You won’t find better outside the city armoury!” Bard told them. “All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key.”   
Kíli exchanged a knowing look with Fíli.   
_I suppose we’ll be visiting the armoury,_ he thought.   
“Thorin,” Balin protested quietly. “Why not take what’s on offer and go? I’ve made do with less. So have you.”   
“It’s the best we’re going to get,” Vana pointed out. “And we’re running out of time.”   
“Exactly,” Balin nodded. “I say we leave now.”   
“You’re not going anywhere,” Bard declared.   
“What did you say?” Dwalin growled, stepping towards him, only to be stopped by a very annoyed Vana.   
“Back off!” She hissed.    
“There are spies watching this house,” Bard said, all but ignoring Dwalin. “And probably every dock and wharf in the town. You must wait until nightfall.”   
The dwarves all sat down with a huff at the table, while Vana continued to stare Dwalin down. Eventually he relented and went to talk quietly with Thorin.   
Kíli watched as she made her way towards the children before wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his leg. He backed towards the window and slowly lowered himself down onto it, gingerly placing his hand over the bandage. Some of the material was starting to turn black.   
_Not now,_ he thought, glancing at Vana as she smiled kindly down at the little girl. _Please, not now._  
He watched as Vana said something that made the little girl burst out laughing, along with the older girl. The boy was smiling at her as well.   
Kíli watched as she continued chatting with them, making them laugh. At one point the little girl seemed to gasp before turning and bounding over to the hobbit.   
“Mister Baggins?” she asked, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. Bilbo looked around at her, apparently confused at being recognised. “Did you really save everyone from trolls?”   
Kíli couldn’t help but chuckle at the hobbit’s dumbfounded expression.   
“I –uh –well -”  
“Come on Bilbo,” Vana came and sat cross-legged on the floor next to him. “Please tell us the story?”   
“’Tell us-’?” Bilbo frowned at Vana. “You were there!”   
“Not for all of it,” she grinned and beckoned the little girl to sit next to her. “Tilda wants to hear and I need something to distract me from the fact that I still smell of fish.”   
“You don’t smell of fish,” Tilda insisted. “You smell of rain and flowers.”   
_Yes, she does,_ Kíli thought to himself with a small smile.   
The older children sat down next to her and even some of the Company were leaning in. Kíli saw Bofur smiling fondly at the children.   
“Please Bilbo?” Vana turned to the hobbit with wide eyes and Bilbo sighed in surrender.   
“Alright, I suppose I can give it a go, but only if you help me, agreed?”   
“Agreed, but you start.”   
Bilbo smiled and began to recount the tale of their capture by the trolls.   
“This should be interesting,” Fíli whispered to his brother as he took a seat next him.   
“I personally don’t recall it being interesting or funny in any way,” Kíli raised an eyebrow, but smiled as Vana started imitating the trolls deep, guttural voices, making the children, and even some of the dwarves, laugh. From behind them, Bard leant against the wall watching with a soft smile. Kíli chose to ignore him this time, instead conjuring up an image of him being roasted by trolls.   
“She’s a natural with them,” Fíli remarked, distracting him from his daydream.   
“She is,” Kíli agreed, allowing his mind to stray once again. This time he was picturing Vana telling the same story, except the children were theirs; the girls had her hair and the boys had his, except one who had his father’s blonde hair, like Fíli. He hoped they would all have Vana’s eyes, but one or two of them would probably end up with his. And there was no bargeman in the background, just him watching her tell them the story of how he, their mother, their uncle and their great-uncle were saved from three monstrous trolls by a tiny hobbit.   
“Parasites?!” The older girl cried with a laugh. “Did that actually work?”   
“Well would you want to eat a dwarf with parasites?” Vana said.   
“Is that why you’re so grumpy?” Tilda asked, looking at… _Dwalin!_ Kíli suppressed a laugh and Fíli buried his face in his hands to hide his amusement.   
“I beg yer pardon,” Dwalin asked her, his voice still gruff. Beside him, Thorin was shaking his head in amusement.   
“Oh that’s nothing,” Vana said, before pointing at Óin. “He’s got parasites as big as his arm.”   
“Aye, alright, we’ll have none of that now!” the healer pointed at Vana. “We don’t _really_ have parasites.”   
Tilda laughed and begged to hear more so Bilbo told her about Gandalf and the trolls turning to stone. Kíli silently watched Vana’s expression as she looked at the children and then at Bilbo. She seemed almost as engrossed in the story as they were. When they had finished, Bilbo continued talking to the children, this time about the Shire and his home, Bag End, being ransacked one night by a band of cheery but ill-mannered dwarves. Vana took the opportunity to stand and take Bard’s coat off. Kíli couldn’t help watching her as she made her way over to Bard, the familiar pang of jealousy threatening to rip open his chest.   
“Thank you,” he heard her say as she handed him his coat. “I’m warm enough now.”   
“You’re very welcome,” he said, smiling warmly at her in a way that made Kíli want to smash his face in with his own crowbill. He thought back to the man in Bree who had terrified Vana with his unwelcome advances, but this was different. Vana wasn’t scared. She was smiling back at him.   
“You’re very good with them,” Bard said. “You’d make a good mother.”   
Vana only laughed. “One day, perhaps,” she said. “They seem happy enough with their father.”   
“I do my best, but they miss their mother. Sigrid and Bain especially. Sigrid was around Tilda’s age when she died.”   
“So,” Vana looked around sadly at Tilda who was laughing delightedly at Bilbo. As she turned back to Bard she caught Kíli’s eye and frowned slightly before facing him. “Tilda was only a baby?”   
“Aye,” Bard said, his face growing sombre. “My wife died bringing her into this world. She was born early and my wife just wasn’t ready. That’s what the midwife said anyway.”   
“I’m sorry, Bard,” Vana gently laid a hand on his arm. As much as Kíli felt for the loss the bargeman had experienced, he couldn’t fight back the rage that simple touch produced in him. He turned away from the exchange to find Fíli watching him curiously.   
“What?” he demanded, causing Fíli’s eyebrows to disappear into his hair.  
“You look like one of those trolls,” he remarked. “Why do I get the feeling you want to kill our host?”   
“I don’t know what you mean,” Kíli shrugged.   
“Come on, little brother,” Fíli groaned. “If you’re going to lie to me about your leg, at least be truthful about this.”   
“First of all, I’m not lying about my leg, second, I don’t like the way he looks at her, alright? And I don’t like the fact that she’s barely spoken a word to me since we got off the barge, but she’s more than happy to talk to him and his children.”   
“Well you could always talk to her first?” Fíli pointed out. Kíli only sighed at his own stubbornness. He didn’t trust himself to talk to Vana just now.   
“Fíli, please -”   
“No, Kíli, you need to stop this right now. We’re leaving tonight and who knows what awaits us in that mountain. You two need to at least be on speaking terms when we get there.”   
“Why don’t you tell her that? She’s the one who started this whole thing!”   
“By telling you not to speak to an elf? How many times has Uncle told us the exact same thing?”   
“This isn’t the same,” Kíli muttered.   
“Why? Because this elf is a pretty maid?”   
Kíli only shook his head slightly, thinking of how friendly Tauriel had been. She was pretty, but so were all the elves. He remembered the way she talked about the stars, how she had reminded him so much of Vana in that moment.   
“Kíli, do you have feelings for that elf?”   
“No, I don’t,” Kíli said exasperatedly. “I just didn’t like the way Vana spoke to her. She threw a cup at her, Fíli! And Tauriel saved her life.”   
“But you love Vana,” Fíli said pointedly. “You’re unlikely to ever see that elf-maid again. Vana, however, you’re going to see for the rest of your life, assuming you don’t drive her away before you get over yourself and talk to her.”   
During their bickering, they didn’t notice Bard slip outside.

_ Thorin _

Thorin saw the bargeman slip outside and immediately went to Vana’s side, causing her to jump a little.   
“Thorin, you scared me!” she hissed.   
“Where did he go?”   
“Bard?” Vana frowned. _Did she have to be so slow?!_ “He went out to get some air. Did you all have to be so rude to him?”   
Thorin ignored her question.   
“We’ll slip out while he’s gone, I don’t want any guards turning up.”   
“You think he’s going to turn us in?”   
“He could be followed. The boy said there were spies watching his house.”   
“All the more reason to wait until nightfall!”   
“Thorin?”   
He turned to see Dwalin come up behind him, blocking them from the sight of the children who were all still engrossed in the hobbit’s stories.   
“What’s the plan?”   
“We find the armoury and we get some weapons. Then we get out of this town as fast as possible.”   
“How do we find the armoury? You want to ask the bargeman?”   
“Fíli and Kíli could find it. They’re the fastest.”   
“Kíli’s injured,” Vana interjected. “He needs to rest, which is why we should wait.”   
“We cannot wait!” Thorin hissed impatiently. “We still have to find the door.”   
“Then let me go.”   
This made Thorin whip round to look at her properly.   
“I can borrow some of Bain’s clothes, cover my hair with a hat and sneak out. I can blend in much better than any of you, I’ll just look like a boy.”   
“I don’t want you going by yourself.”   
“Well, you don’t have much of a choice if you want to leave as soon as possible.”   
Thorin met her accusing glare with as much authority as he could muster. _What right does she possibly have to question my orders?_  
“One hour.” He said. “You have one hour to find this armoury and then make your way back. We will be waiting for you in the alley behind the market place.”   
“One hour then,” she nodded and went to change.   
“Vana!”   
Thorin groaned as the little girl intercepted her, tugging on her arm.   
“Come and sit with us! Bilbo’s telling us about the elves!”   
_Was the halfling telling them everything about the quest?!_  
“I’m sorry Tilda,” Vana smiled at the little girl. “I’m very tired, I thought I’d just go lie down. Maybe later?”   
The girl frowned but relented when her sister stood up to reprimand her.   
“You can use Da’s room,” she told Vana. “Sleep as long as you like.”   
“Thank you,” Vana smiled and left the room and at his nod, both he and Dwalin went to whisper the plan to the rest of the company.


	11. Thrice Welcome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: "Why Gandalf hired a hobbit for the burglary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Point of interest, I've finally finished writing the third installment! And I'm super excited to show everyone. :D

 

** Chapter 11: Thrice Welcome! **

_ Kíli _

Thorin had ushered them all out of the house as soon as the hour had passed, ignoring the loud protests of the bargeman’s son. Vana still had not returned and the sun was starting to disappear. They followed him through the town, trying to keep to the back streets behind the houses while the people of Laketown packed up their wares and went home. Three times Thorin had halted them upon spotting groups of guards and they had to split up to hide behind the houses.   
Kíli’s leg was starting to throb incessantly every time he walked on it. He managed to hide his limp most of the time, and Fíli was constantly beside him in case he fell, which so far he had managed to avoid. Every time they stopped he would lean against something rather than stand on his leg for longer than absolutely necessary, praying that Thorin wouldn’t notice.   
_Not much longer,_ he kept reminding himself.   
He started to worry about Vana. He hadn’t been happy at all when Thorin told them the plan. He didn’t doubt Vana’s ability to sneak past the guards, nor her ability to defend herself, but he hated the thought of having to leave her behind if she were caught. He definitely didn’t want her left in the hands of these Men.   
He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when she appeared at the opening of one of the alleys, spotted them and sprinted down to meet them, taking her hat off to allow her loose hair to fall around her shoulders as she reached Thorin.   
“I followed the guards. The armoury’s in the centre of town, a few streets away from the Master’s house. The guards are locking it up as we speak and then they’re leaving. The front door will be guarded but there’s a window around the back that’s been left open. Assuming they don’t notice it we have a clear way in and out that way.”   
Thorin nodded his approval and turned to whisper the rest of the plan to the company.   
Kíli caught Vana’s eye as she slipped the hat between her teeth to curl her hair on top of her head again.   
He tried to think of something to say but in the end all he did was nod.   
“Kíli!” His uncle hissed loudly, making Kíli jump.   
“Pardon?”   
“I said you’ll follow Vana through the window! Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”   
“Yes, uncle, sorry,” Kíli mumbled, looking at his feet.   
Thorin stared at him a moment longer before addressing the rest of the company. “I’ll go in and then Bofur will come last and we’ll pass the weapons out to the rest of you. Then we’ll climb back out and get to the mountain as fast as possible. Is everyone clear?”   
The dwarves and Bilbo nodded and Vana beckoned for them to follow her, leading them to the armoury.

_ Vana _

I peered around the corner to the dwarves piled beneath the window in a sort of living staircase. In another context the sight would have been funny but laughing was the last thing I felt like doing just now. I felt awful about leaving Bard’s as we did. _  
_  “Can you see anything?” Bilbo whispered.   
“Ssh!” Óin scolded him. “Keep it down!”   
“As soon as we have the weapons we’ll make straight for the mountain,” Thorin told us before peering around the corner.   
“Go, go, go,” he whispered to Nori who sprinted down the walkway and up the pile of dwarves into the open window.   
“Next,” he nodded to Bilbo, who followed Nori and then to me. Once I was through the window I turned to watch Kíli climbing up the dwarves, his face obviously pained, though he didn’t make a sound. He climbed in through the window, staggering slightly on his leg.   
“Are you sure you should be up here?” I whispered to him. “Can you carry the weapons?”   
“I’m not an invalid, Vana!” He hissed, glaring at me. “Besides it’s my leg that was hurt, not my arm.”   
“Well I’m sorry I care,” I huffed as Thorin appeared through the window.   
“What’s going on?” he demanded in a hushed whisper.   
“Nothing,” Kíli and I answered at once.   
“Then what are you standing here for?”   
We both gave the other a final glare before following Bilbo and Nori to the weapon racks. Bofur soon followed Thorin up and made straight for the war hammers. The weapons were all human-sized, which made the longbows out of the question. I managed to find a few short swords that would work, though they were awfully heavy. I had grown used to Ringil’s light weight and for a moment I mourned the loss of my Elvish sword.   
Behind me, Thorin was piling weapons onto Kíli’s outstretched arms, until he caught a glimpse of Kíli’s pained face.   
“Are you alright?”    
“I can manage,” Kíli grunted, making me roll my eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” He took the weapons and began to head down the stairs – only to fall with a loud cry of pain and an even louder clatter of metal as the weapons tumbled to the floor.   
“Kíli!” I whispered his name instinctively, practically leaping down the stairs to get to him as the guards shouted from outside. I knelt down to see Kíli’s face contorted in pain in the dark of the stairs. Before I could search for an injury the door burst open and there was a blade at my neck and a hand gripping my upper arm.   
Another knife was at Kíli’s throat and he looked guiltily at me before looking up at Thorin.   
“Dwarves, sir!” A voice shouted from above.   
“And a woman!” The guard holding me called up. “A pretty one.”   
“Let go of me!” I tried to wrench my arm free, but the blade against my neck only dug in more.   
“Take them to the Master!” A voice I recognised as Braga’s ordered and I was hauled to my feet by the guard while another yanked Kíli upright, making him grunt in pain.   
“Careful!” I said angrily. “He’s hurt!”   
“Shut up, Vana!” Kíli snapped as the guard shoved him through the door.   
“’Shut up?’” I almost shouted, the fury boiling over now. “You shut up, you stupid, ignorant, pig-headed dwarf!”   
“ _I’m_ pig-headed?” Kíli yelled as we were guided around towards where the rest of the company who had been waiting outside were being hustled along the walkway. They all looked behind them at the sounds of our arguing with confused and slightly relieved expressions on their faces.   
“Yes, _you’re_ pig-headed!” I shouted at Kíli, ignoring the stares from dwarves and men alike. “Why couldn’t you just admit you hurt your leg like any normal person!”   
“My leg is fine!”   
“You fell down the stairs!”   
“I tripped!”   
“And now we’re being arrested!”   
“If you two don’t pipe down right now I won’t hesitate to cut out your tongues!” The guard holding me threatened, gripping my arm harder.   
“Try it,” I growled. “I dare you!”   
“Shut up Vana!” Kíli hissed.   
“Don’t tell me to -”   
“Shut up!” Braga yelled as we arrived in front of the huge town hall.  The large, ornate wooden doors opened to reveal a large, balding man with the thinnest and most repulsive ginger comb-over I’d ever seen, marching out of the building, shrugging a thick fur coat over his shoulders as he was followed by a hunched little man dressed all in black, with one long black eyebrow hovering over his eyes.   
“What is the meaning of this?” the Master cried, observing us as we were all hustled in front of the guards in a group. Behind us, the people of Lake-town were gathering to watch, muttering amongst themselves and pointing.   
“Caught ‘em stealin’ weapons, Sire,” Braga told him with a satisfied smile.   
“Ah, enemies of the state eh?” the Master said with a look of perverse glee.   
“A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever there was Sire,” the man in black sneered with the same sleazy voice I had heard from the barge. _I was right, Alfrid is more disgusting than dead fish…_  
“Hold yer tongue!” A familiar guttural growl came from next to me and I turned to see Dwalin glaring up at the Master. “You do not know to whom you speak! This is no common criminal. This is Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór”   
Thorin took a few steps in front of him, laying a calming hand on Dwalin’s shoulder as he addressed the Master.   
“We are the dwarves of Erebor,” he announced to an astonished silence. “We have come to reclaim our homeland.”   
I glanced around at the guard who was still holding my arm while he gaped at Thorin. With a hard shove I wrenched my arm out of his grip and went to stand next to Dwalin. He stood protectively in front of me as he gazed from Thorin to the Master and back.   
Thorin was now addressing the whole crowd.   
“I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the centre of all trade in the North!”   
The murmuring around us increased and I could see people nodding to one another.   
“I would see those days return,” Thorin continued, a new passion filling his voice. “I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!”   
His speech was met with a great cheer from the people around us and I glanced at Dwalin with a small smile.   
_Would sheer luck and fine words get us out of here?_  
“Death!”   
A familiar voice called from the crowd and I turned to see Bard make his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on Thorin. Bilbo and Balin stood aside to let him through as he stepped right up to Thorin.   
“That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all!”   
I stared at Bard in horror at his words. He had helped us, he had snuck us in and given us shelter. Now he was trying to ruin our chances. The crowd had gone silent once again and Thorin addressed them with his response.   
“You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this: if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain.”   
This was met with a lot of excited chatter.   
“You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!”   
This was met with more cheering until Alfrid’s sneering voice called over them, causing them to fall silent again.   
“Why should we take you at your word? We know nothing about you. ‘Oo ‘ere can vouch for your character?”   
There was a short pause before Bilbo raised his hand, much to everyone’s surprise.   
“Me. I’ll vouch for him.”   
I looked round at him with a small smile as he addressed the crowd, most of whom were still searching for the source of the voice.   
“Now I have travelled far with these dwarves, through great danger, and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it!”   
I looked back to Thorin, who was smiling fondly at the hobbit’s words while the crowd began to cheer again.   
“All of you!” Bard called over them. “Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?! And for what purpose?” He turned to face Thorin with a furious glare. “The blind ambition of a Mountain King, so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”   
“How dare you!” I shouted before I could stop myself. Bard turned to me, confusion taking over his look of fury. I could the feel the surprised looks from the dwarves but ignored them and glared at Bard instead.   
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” I hissed at him. Bard regarded me for a moment before Alfrid’s voice distracted us.   
“And ‘oo are you? You’re no dwarf.”   
“A keen observation,” I sneered at him.   
“What I do know,” Bard addressed the crowd. “Is that the last King under the Mountain coveted gold above all else and as a result, the dragon came and destroyed a peaceful city of Men for no other reason than it happened to be close to that Mountain and the gold that it wanted!”   
“Now, now,” the Master finally spoke after being silent for so long. “We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor -” he pointed at Bard “- who failed to kill the beast!”   
I looked at Bard in shock as his face fell into an expression of defeated. He glared at the Master and Alfrid as well as he joined in.   
“It’s true, Sire, we all know the story. Arrow after arrow ‘e shot, each one missing its mark.”   
Bard ignored the sneers from Alfird and the mutterings of agreement from the crowd and instead approached Thorin.   
“You have no right,” he said quietly, his voice becoming a low growl. “No right to enter that mountain.”   
“I have the only right,” Thorin told him before turning his back on him to face the Master. “I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?”   
The Master looked at him through tiny, gleeful eyes before pointing at him. “I say unto you…welcome!” He raised his arms as the crowd erupted into cheers. “Welcome, and thrice, welcome King under the Mountain!”   
Thorin turned to look at the cheering crowd, standing proudly as they cheered for him, though his face remained stern. My gaze moved from him to Bard as the bargeman’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned to face me, his eyes filled with sadness and I met his gaze before he strode past me, walking briskly back towards his home. I felt a sudden urge to follow him but Dwalin was ushering me towards the hall.   
“Come, come!” The Master called joyfully to us. “We must drink and feast tonight! You will all stay here and celebrate the renewal of our old alliance! Tomorrow we will provide whatever you need to travel to the Mountain!”   
I desperately did not want to spend an evening drinking and feasting with the Master, but the potential for a warm bed was rather appealing. A bath wouldn’t go amiss either.   
  
The Master pulled out all the stops; having warm baths drawn and beds made up for us upstairs, though most of the dwarves had to double up. Only Thorin and I got a room to ourselves and one of the maids even looked out an old dress for me to wear. As much as I really didn’t want to put on a dress, it seemed rude not to. Meanwhile the kitchens worked overtime to churn as much food as could physically fit on the Master’s dining table. The company ate heartily, enjoying the hot meal and ale while it lasted. Thorin made polite conversation with the Master, taking his chance to escape when the Master turned to me.   
“So, tell me Miss Vana,” he cooed at me, his smile making me feel a little sick. “Why does a sweet, pretty young woman such as yourself travel with a company of dwarves?”   
I sighed, so utterly sick and tired of that question.   
“They’re my family, Sire. I go where they go.”   
“Your family? You have no true family of your own?”   
I frowned at him. “They’re the only true family I’ve ever known.”   
“Seems strange for a group of dwarves to take in a woman for _familial_ purposes.”   
I fought the urge to ram my fork into his eye.   
“It’s not that strange. Dwarves take family very seriously, and they protect their own, particularly their women.”   
“And are they true to their word?”   
“They take great pride in their honour,” I glared at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your profit from the Mountain.”   
“Oh of course, we’re happy to help!” The Master raised his hands in feigned innocence. “But it’s always nice to know that everybody’s happy is it not, my dear?”   
“My name is Vana.” I stated, standing up from the table. “Please excuse me.” I made a short bow to the Master and went to stand with Dwalin who was in his usual position of standing against the wall with a mug of ale in his hand.   
“I swear to Durin and all his descendants,” I growled softly. “If that Master smiles at me and calls me ‘dear’ one more time I will make sure he’s unable to produce any more Masters.”   
Dwalin chuckled.   
“As much as I’d love to see that lass, yeh’d best wait till we have our weapons.”   
“I don’t trust him Dwalin. Look at this place, all the ornaments and food and drink, meanwhile people out there are starving. Bard and his children, they’re all struggling to make ends meet and here we are drinking and stuffing our faces. It’s not right.”   
“It’s not our problem, lass,” Dwalin said with a sombre expression. “We’ve bigger things to worry about.” I followed his gaze to where it settled on Thorin, who was standing by one of the windows and staring out into the night.   
“Dwalin,” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “Is Thorin…does he seem different to you?”   
It took Dwalin a few moments to answer.   
“He’s impatient to get to the Mountain. He’s been waitin’ fer this a long time.”   
“I understand that, but he just seems…well take Kíli for instance. Before, his injury would have been Thorin’s priority. But he didn’t seem to care at all.”   
“Kíli said he was fine, what’s Thorin supposed to think?”   
“I know he did, but -”  
“Lass,” Dwalin turned to face me, his frown deepening. “Is there something yer no’ tellin’ me?”   
I met his fierce gaze, the words threatening to burst out of me.   
_Thorin’s scared he’ll go mad like his grandfather. He’s terrified of his own weakness and he can’t see himself changing._  
Instead I kept my face straight and sighed. “No, of course not.”   
Dwalin nodded slowly, clearly not believing me completely. “I need to talk to Thorin anyway, will yeh be able to keep yerself from castratin’ anyone.”   
“I make no promises,” I muttered with a small chuckle and Dwalin shook his head fondly as he walked off.   
With a sigh I leant against the wall. Something was definitely different about Thorin, he wasn’t usually so impatient, so angry. I looked around the room once again, disgusted at the obvious riches displayed around the place. The guards’ armour was gleaming and the red material of their cloaks was far too rich to be local. Even the plates and cutlery were finely made and the amount of jewels hanging around the Master’s thick neck could have fed most of the town for a week. I thought back to Bard’s old coat and little Tilda’s patched dresses and their damp, rickety house and fought the urge to punch something.   
“Are you alright?”   
I jumped a little at Bilbo’s voice, turning to see him standing next to me in some borrowed clothes that must have belonged to a child.   
“Mahal, Bilbo, I know Gandalf said hobbits could pass unseen by most but I never thought he was completely serious.”   
“Yes, well,” Bilbo cleared his throat with a small chuckle. “It has its perks. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You seem a little stressed.” He trailed off with a small frown.    
I let out a small laugh, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers.   
_Oh, Bilbo, if only you knew._  
“He doesn’t look like he’s having the time of his life either,” Bilbo said, nodding over to the table. I followed his gaze to find Kíli, slumped in a chair at the end of the table, frowning at his half-eaten food.   
“What am I supposed to do about that?” I muttered.   
“Well, perhaps it’s time to sort things out, whatever they are.”   
“Bilbo -”  
“Look, I don’t know what happened in those dungeons,” He looked up at me determinedly. “But I know that before all that you two were practically joined at the hip. You’ve both almost lost each other since we left Rivendell and now we’re about to go into a Mountain in which there may or may not be a live dragon.”   
“Bilbo,” I shook my head sadly. “Kíli’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want my help. He doesn’t trust me anymore, he thinks I’m mad.”   
“What do you mean?” Bilbo frowned.   
“Apparently I said some strange things in the forest.”   
“Well, so did everyone else,” Bilbo pointed out with a shrug. “Dori thought there were other dwarves in the woods and Dwalin thought the path was moving. That forest altered all of our minds.”   
“Well, apparently it messed with mine so much that I was talking to people who weren’t there and now Kíli thinks I’m unstable, which is rich coming from the one who blew our cover in the armoury because he’s too proud to admit he has a sore leg.” I glowered over at Kíli, who was now in the middle of a lively conversation with Nori, though his smiles were clearly strained.   
“Vana, maybe -”  
“I’m sorry Bilbo, I need some air.” I walked away from him before he could answer, edging past the groups of guards gathered by the doorway and ignoring their comments as I passed. I stormed up the stairs, searching for my room and went in to find my borrowed clothes had been neatly folded. I gathered them up and made my way downstairs, sneaking out through the front door and heading in the direction of Bard’s house. Bain needed his clothes a lot more than I did, and besides my clothes were still in their house.

It was still snowing outside when I left, the snow settling briefly on the damp wood before slowly melting. I made it to the end of the street from the Master’s house before a familiar figure appeared around the corner, the light from the torches illuminating his dark hair and old hide coat.   
“It seems we’re of a similar mind,” Bard said with a small smile and holding up my clothes, also neatly folded.   
“I suppose we are,” I chuckled. “I’m sorry for borrowing Bain’s clothes without permission, I hope he’s not too angry with me.”   
“He’s angrier that your companions threatened to throw him in the lake if he tried to stop them from leaving.” Both Bard’s expression and voice darkened with his words as he took the clothes from me, making me duck my head.   
“I’m sorry about that too. This quest is so important to all of them, and we only have a small window of opportunity to complete it. They don’t mean to be rude.”   
“Why do you do that?” Bard’s frown deepened as he took a step closer to me, the torch light glowing in his dark green eyes.   
“Do what?”   
“Apologise for them, make excuses, defend them?” He shook his head slightly. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”   
“Well they’re dwarves,” I shrugged, trying to lighten the mood with a small chuckle. “The only thing thicker than their bones is their stubbornness. It’s just their nature.”   
“So they let you clear up after them?”   
All traces of amusement left me as I shook my head. “No, I just don’t want anyone thinking ill of them when they don’t deserve it.”   
“This quest of theirs,” Bard took another step closer. “Entering the Mountain, it will only end in death. The dragon will kill all of you before destroying this town out of vengeance. Thorin Oakenshield is a madman if he thinks he can succeed.”   
“Stop right there,” I warned softly, my hands itching to reach back and draw my sword, even though it wasn’t there. “You will never insult Thorin in front of me again.”   
Bard regarded me with an almost unreadable expression; his brow still furrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line as he held my gaze without blinking until finally he spoke again, his voice low and gruff:   
“Why are you so loyal to him?”   
It was my turn to take a step closer, inwardly cursing the height difference as I did so.   
“Thorin Oakenshield saved my life. I was a nameless girl at the side of the road with nowhere to go and he took me in, protected me, gave me a home. Now he’s reclaiming _his_ home, and he’s not doing it for the gold or to have his name written in songs and legends, but for his nephews, and his sister, and every other dwarf that has remained loyal to him since that dragon drove them out into the wild. You have no idea what he has lost, what he has given up in order to protect and lead his people. You have no idea what he’s been through, and yet you would condemn him for the mistakes of his ancestors, much like your own Master did to you, descendant of Girion.”   
Bard’s expression grew fierce for a moment before softening as he regarded me. Snowflakes clung to his loose hair and melted into the front of his coat. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before fixing me with an almost pleading look.   
“I admire your loyalty to them. They are your family, I understand that. But this quest is doomed to fail. There is no way you can defeat that dragon. And even if you can, what of the cursed gold?"   
I had no answer to that one. It was the gold that worried me most. Thorin was already acting differently and I had no idea what to say to him. He trusted me with his fear and I had no idea how to fix it. All I knew was that I couldn’t stand and do nothing.   
“Thorin is strong, and he has a good heart. He has overcome many things in his life. If there is a curse on that gold, he will fight it with everything he has. And he will have us to help him.”   
“You don’t sound so sure,” Bard said, raising his eyebrows.   
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I glared at him. “You should go. Worry about your own family and let me worry about mine!” With that I turned to leave.   
“Vana, wait!” His hand was a little rough, but warm on my arm as he pulled me back round to face him. “Don’t go with them. You can stay with us, I know Tilda would love that. Just please don’t go into that Mountain, it’s not safe!”   
I stared at him in horror, trying to process exactly what he was asking me.   
“Do you not hear yourself?” I hissed, wrenching my arm out of his grasp. “You are asking me to abandon my family.”   
“And I have no right to do so, I know,” Bard conceded. “But please, think about what you’re getting yourself into. If you go with them tomorrow, you are going to your death.”  
A shiver ran up my spine at his words, which he misinterpreted and proceeded to hand me his cardigan I had borrowed.   
“Here, you’re cold,” he said as he wrapped the cardigan around my shoulders before I could protest.   
“Thank you,” I muttered before shaking my head at him. “Bard, I can’t. I made a promise. I’m so grateful for everything you have done for us, but I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”   
I turned away before he could answer and almost ran back to the house.


	12. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come! We all know what happens...

_ Vana _

The next morning I woke to the sound of bells chiming loudly outside the window. I lay in bed for a few minutes, unable to get Bard’s words out of my head. He spoke of the destruction of the town, of dragon-fire, as if it were a certainty. He called Thorin a madman.   
What did he know? He certainly didn’t know Thorin. I knew Thorin. He took me in, saved me from an attack, trained me to fight, allowed me to become a part of his family and clan, he had even allowed me to court his nephew – as well as that was currently going. He had opened up to me about his fears of the gold sickness, but I couldn’t see it in him. Or I didn’t want to. He was desperate to reach his home again, now that he was so close. That was all…wasn’t it?   
I was knocked out of my thoughts by a loud hammering on my door.   
“Up yeh get lass!” Dwalin called through the door. “We’re off soon!”   
“I’ll be right there!” I called back and threw the covers off my bed. The last time I had spent a night in a proper bed, Kíli had been beside me. I hated to admit it, but I had missed him. With a sigh I stood up and pulled my trousers on, before tying my corset around my upper body and pulling on Bard’s large cardigan. I rolled the sleeves up to leave my hands uncovered before putting on my socks and boots. I used the basin to quickly clean my teeth and splash cold water on my face before grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl by the bed and making my way downstairs. In the front hall, a table had been laid out with a selection of weapons from the armoury. I took a sword and adjusted it so I could strap it over my shoulder with the sword resting on my back. As I was buckling it on I looked up to find Thorin wearing an oversized red cloak borrowed from one of the guards.   
“Nice,” I remarked with a smirk, to which he only rolled his eyes. “It brings out your eyes.”   
“Just get ready,” he muttered gruffly and turned to speak to Dwalin. I raised my eyebrows at his curt response before turning round at the sound of a small cough. I wanted to burst out laughing when I saw him; Bilbo was wearing the most absurdly large helmet that barely left enough room for his eyes to see.   
“What on _earth_ are you wearing Bilbo Baggins?” I asked with a stifled laugh.   
“Please don’t say a word!” he said sharply. “I already know how ridiculous I look, thank you!”   
“I don’t think you do,” I murmured as I picked up a belt with two daggers attached and buckled it around my waist. I approached Thorin, being sure to wipe any residue of humour off my face.   
“Can I carry anything else?”   
“Yes, you can take these down to the boat,” he said and placed a few battleaxes in my hands. I nodded and waited for the rest of the company to be ready. I shot a glance at Kíli who was looking much worse this morning. His face was pale and he had huge shadows under his eyes. I caught Fíli’s eye and we exchanged a worried glance until he shook his head slightly, indicating that Kíli would not appreciate any acknowledgement of his obvious illness. I sighed as Thorin ordered us to make for the boats.

We made our way towards the dock, through the gathering throng of people who were lining the walkway to see us off, muttering excitedly as we passed.   
“You do know we’re one short?” Bilbo said. “Where’s Bofur?”   
I checked behind me but I couldn’t spot that hat anywhere.   
“If he’s not here, we leave him behind.” Thorin said brusquely.   
“We’ll have to,” Balin said. “If we’re to find the door before nightfall. We can risk no more delays.”   
I stepped into the boat and placed the battleaxes carefully on the deck, before peering back down the walkway to search for that hat.   
“Where is he?” I asked Dori as he got on next. “Did you see him this morning?”   
“Haven’t seen him since last night when he challenged the entire guard to a drinking contest,” Dori said with a shake of his head.   
I groaned; trust Bofur to get drunk and miss the most important quest of the age. I turned as Fíli got on and handed me an oar which I placed on the side. I looked up to see Kíli attempt to step on the boat only to be stopped by Thorin.   
“Not you,” he said quietly. “We must travel at speed, you will slow us down.”   
I stared at Thorin in shock, nudging Fíli to get his attention.   
Kíli looked at Thorin with his usual cheeky smile, searching for the joke. “What are you talking about? I’m coming with you.”   
“Not now,” Thorin shook his head, meeting Kíli’s eye when the smile faded from his face, replaced by simple, heart-wrenching betrayal.   
“I’m going to be there when that door is opened,” he insisted. “When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin -”   
“Kíli,” Thorin placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling softly at him. “Stay here, rest. Join us when you’re healed.” He wasn’t a king in that moment, just a concerned uncle.   
_You can’t just leave him like that!_ I wanted to shout, but I was too caught up at the sadness in Kíli’s eyes as Thorin turned away from him. He backed away to sit on top of a crate, his eyes glued to the dock beneath his feet. My instincts told me to run to him but I knew he’d only push me away.   
“I’ll stay with the lad,” Óin sighed and stepped back off the boat. “My duty lies with the wounded.”   
I saw Kíli flinch at that word and his eyes found mine as he looked up. For the first time since we left the Elvish jail he didn’t scowl at me, or glare, or look like he wanted nothing to do with me. Now he looked at me the same way he looked on the mountainside when he was begging me not to let go of the tree. He looked utterly defeated. For a moment I forgot all of the anger I had felt towards him, until I felt Fíli bump into me as he stormed up to Thorin.   
“Uncle,” he implored softly. “We grew up on tales of the Mountain, tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him!”   
“Fíli!” Kíli protested with a pained expression but Fíli ignored him, looking up into Thorin’s sad, yet unrelenting face.   
“I will carry him if I must!” he insisted.   
“One day you will be King and you will understand,” Thorin told his heir with a grave expression. “I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf, not even my own kin.”   
I looked back to Kíli who was flinching away from Óin’s touch and shaking his head at the healer. Fíli then stepped back out of the boat towards his brother, stopping only when Thorin grabbed his arm.   
“Fíli, don’t be a fool,” he said softly. “You belong with the company.”   
“I belong with my brother.” Fíli told him, wrenching his arm free before joining Kíli. I glanced at Thorin who was staring after him with a saddened expression, before climbing out of the boat after him.   
“Fíli!” I called and he turned to face me, his expression still hard. “You should go. It’s your future kingdom.”   
“I can’t,” Fíli shook his head. “Kíli needs me.”   
“Fíli I don’t -” Kíli began to protest but I cut him off.   
“I’ll stay with him,” I said to Fíli. “I’ll look after him. Thorin needs you.”   
Fíli gazed at me for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I won’t enter Erebor for the first time without my brother. Go or stay as you wish, but I’m staying with Kíli.”   
I sighed and turned to Thorin with a small shake of my head. Thorin nodded in understanding and got into the boat. He turned to look back at me one more time and his dark blue eyes burned into me, causing his words from back in Beorn’s loft to sound in my head.   
_“Fíli and Kíli have to survive. Please, Vana? Promise me you’ll protect them.”_  
I nodded once as the fanfare of trumpets started playing and the boat pushed away from the dock. Dwalin saw me on the dock and began to storm forwards but I held up a hand to stop him, feeling the urge to cry at the look on his face.   
“Sorry,” I mouthed to him but he only stared back until his brother laid a hand on his arm.   
“Go now with our good will and good wishes!” The Master called from his podium. “And may your return bring good fortune to all!”   
 I turned back to Kíli who was watching the boat leave with a dejected expression. I knelt down next to him.   
“We’ll sort it out today. Get your leg treated properly and then follow.”   
“Please don’t patronise me Vana,” he muttered, shooting a glare at me.   
“I’m not -!” I sighed in frustration.   
_We’re back to that again, are we?_   
“You know, if you didn’t want me to stay you could’ve said.” I snapped.   
“Both of you stop,” Fíli groaned. “You are not doing this now!”   
“Out of the way!” A muffled shout came from the crowd and a familiar hat appeared at the side of the dock as Bofur shoved his way through.   
“No!” He cried as he saw the boat was long gone. He turned around with a moan until he spotted us and grinned. “So you missed the boat as well?”   
Before any of us could respond, Kíli began to slip forward, his eyes rolling back in his head.   
“Kíli!” Fíli cried and held his brother upright with Óin supporting his other side. I quickly cupped his face in my hands, almost wrenching them back at how hot his skin was. He looked so pale, I expected him to be cold.   
“Kíli?” I called his name and tried to look into his eyes. “Look at me, please? Kíli!”   
He didn’t respond, aside from his eyes momentarily fluttering open.   
“We need to get him to a healer,” Fíli said.   
“It must be the arrow wound,” I said to Óin. “Could it be infected?”   
“It’s the most likely explanation,” he said. “Mahal knows what the orcs could have put on their arrows.”   
I shuddered at the thought, remembering the orc who had shot Kíli perfectly. My mind immediately leapt to my vision but I pushed the memory aside for now, as I began to clear the way through the crowds for Fíli and Óin to lead Kíli through with Bofur following behind them.   
“Out of the way!” I shouted into the throng of people and they quickly stepped aside at the sight of Kíli, pale and shivering. We made our way back to the hall where the Master was heading up the stairs, closely followed by Alfrid and an armed guard.   
“…the important thing is they’re off our hands!” I heard him say, obviously talking about us. I swallowed my rage and called out to them.   
“Wait! Please wait! We need your help!”   
They both turned to stare at us in confusion.   
“My brother is sick!” Fíli said.   
“Sick?” The Master squealed, ripping a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressing it over his mouth. “Is it infectious? Get back! Alfrid! Don’t let them come any closer!”   
“Please?” Óin implored. “We need medicine!”   
“Do I look like an apothecary?” Alfrid sneered. “’Aven’t we given you enough? The Master’s a busy man! ‘E ‘asn’t got time to worry about sick dwarves!”   
“Has he got time to worry about the bargain he struck?” I demanded, storming closer to the black leech. “Do you think the King under the Mountain will be willing to share his wealth with you if you leave his nephew on the street to die? Do you think he won’t take revenge?”   
I knew I was pushing my luck, but I was also supressing the urge to stab this Alfrid man in the face.   
“Are you threatenin’ the Master?” Alfrid asked, his black eyes roaming all over me.   
“I’m reminding him that he made a deal with our King.” I said darkly, though my hand twitched toward the knife in my belt as he leered at me. “Though if you don’t stop looking at me like that, you may be the one I’m threatening.”   
Alfrid only smirked.   
“You make one move and these guards’ll ‘ave you locked in the dungeons. What good would your bargains and threats do then? Go on, all of you, clear off!” With that he turned on his heel and followed the Master into the hall. Before I could yell all the obscenities I could think of after them the guards had grabbed me by the shoulders and were shoving me away from the hall.   
“You heard him! Clear off!”   
“Alright, alright! We’re going!” I shouted, angrily wrenching out of their grip. We guided Kíli away from the hall, before pausing in an empty side street.   
“Where do we go now?” Bofur asked.   
“I think I know where,” I said.

Within twenty minutes we had made it to Bard’s house. He opened the door when I knocked, only to shake his head as soon as he saw us.   
“No, I’m done with dwarves. Go away.” He went to slam the door but Bofur blocked it with his arm before he could.   
“No, no!” he protested. “No one will help us. Kíli’s sick!”   
Bard peered past him to see Kíli, slumped over his brother’s shoulder and looking up at Bard with a defeated expression.   
“Bard, please?” I implored and he turned to look at me, as if only just noticing me. “He’s very sick.”   
Bard regarded me for a moment before nodding and ushering us in.   
“Put him in here,” he pointed to his open bedroom door before calling to his children. “Sigrid! Boil some water. Bain, can you fetch some clean towels?”   
“Da?” Sigrid appeared from her room and Bain ran up from downstairs. “What’s happening?”   
“Please, just do as I ask?”   
“Vana! You’re back!” I turned from helping Kíli onto the bed to see Tilda standing in the doorway. Her smile faded as she caught sight of Kíli. “Is he okay?”   
“He’s quite sick Tilda,” I said, kneeling down to look up at her. “Can you go help your sister?”   
Tilda nodded until Kíli let out a loud, agonised cry, making her jump.   
I whipped round to see Kíli’s face contorted in pain as his entire body tensed, his leg shaking slightly. After a few seconds he relaxed, breathing heavily.   
“Kíli?” Fíli gripped his brother’s hand. “What happened?”   
“My leg…” Kíli groaned. “Unh – hurts…”   
“Let me have a look, laddie.” Óin sat on the bed next to him, gently reaching over to undo the binding. I stood awkwardly at the end of the bed. I so badly wanted to help, to take his hand or touch his shoulder to let him know I was there for him, but the sight of his leg was enough to make me freeze.  
The skin around Kíli’s wound was black, like a deep, fresh bruise, and the cut was oozing a thick black liquid. Whenever Óin tried to touch it Kíli would scream and wrench away from him, and every time he did I wanted to cry.   
“I don’t think this is an infection.” There was a distinct graveness in Óin’s voice that made my heart drop.   
“You think it’s poison?” Fíli whispered.   
“Orcs have been known to lace their weapons with these evil concoctions, but I have no idea exactly what they are. The best I can do is treat his symptoms.”   
“Then do that,” Fíli said, his voice cracking slightly as he fought to keep a straight face. “Please, do everything you can.”   
Óin nodded and motioned to Sigrid to bring him the boiled water. She tentatively held it for him while he soaked a towel in it.   
“Kíli, my lad, I’m afraid this won’t be pleasant. I need to clean your wound before I do anything else.”   
I watched as Kíli gritted his teeth and nodded, his eyes finding mine as Óin pressed the cloth to his leg. The effect was immediate; Kíli’s face screwed up in pain as he let out another unearthly cry, instinctively trying to wrench his leg from Óin’s grip.   
“Help me hold his leg down!” The healer ordered and both Fíli and Bofur immediately ran forward to pin his leg to the bed.   
“It’s alright, Kee,” Fíli tried to keep his voice calm. “It’ll be over soon.”   
“Vana…” A moan escaped Kíli’s mouth as he opened his unfocused eyes.   
The breath caught in my throat at the sound of my name and before I could think to answer my legs were carrying me from the room. I sped out of the door, pausing on the balcony to breathe in the cool air. My chest was heaving from the effort that simply breathing was having on me and I squeezed my eyes shut against the threat of tears.   
_This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is not what I saw! How am I supposed to protect him if I don’t see it coming!_  
I took a moment to silently curse the Elvish witch and her tormenting.   
“Vana?” Bard’s voice behind me made me turn to face him. “Are you alright?”   
“Alright?” I wanted to laugh at his inane question. “No I’m…” I sighed and buried my face in my hands so he wouldn’t see the tears. “I’m not prepared for this.”   
“No one ever is,” he said softly. “But the fight’s just starting, don’t give up hope yet.”   
“I’m not -” I choked as I looked up at him, trying desperately to look angry. “He doesn’t want me, he told me so.”   
“Well he’s asking for you now,” Bard laid a gentle hand on my arm. “He will need you to see him through this, even if he thinks he doesn’t want you there, he will still need you. And you will never forgive yourself if you leave him now.”   
I clenched my jaw against the sobs threatening to force their way out and nodded, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down before I marched back into Bard’s house and back to Kíli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, it's getting intense...


	13. 'Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin's folk.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company head for the mountain while those left behind try to figure out what the hell to do about Kili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as it turns out, I'm heading off on a road trip next Sunday and I'm not sure what my WiFi situation will be. So I'm just going to put the rest of the DoS up now (which is a relief really because BOFA is finished as well and I can't wait to get that all up :D) So if by some miracle next week I do have WiFi I will just start uploading BOFA. But for now, here's the end of part 2.

_ Dwalin _

Sailing across the river, Dwalin felt as if he was letting himself down. While the others were restless and impatient to set foot on dry land, to finally make it to the Mountain, the old warrior couldn’t quite feel the same elation. While Thorin looked longingly up at the mountain, his head raised high and noble in the brightening sky, Dwalin found himself looking back over his shoulder towards Lake-town.   
The look on Vana’s face as the boat left, and the smallest shake of her head, it had felt like a kick in the guts to him. It didn’t feel right at all, that neither she, Fíli nor Kíli shouldn’t be with them when they finally opened that door but there was nothing to be done.   
A small clap of the shoulder caught his attention and he looked up to see his own brother smiling softly at him.   
“Take heart, brother,” he said in a tone that Dwalin supposed was meant to be jovial. “We’re finally going home.”   
Dwalin could only nod in response.

When they finally touched dry land the sun was steadily climbing higher, setting a soft glow on the pale grey of the lake. Beyond them the land tilted upwards in a series of small hills; land which Dwalin remembered as being green and filled with trees, fields and life. Now it was brown, dirty and barren, with nothing separating them from the mountain and the danger within. They divided the weapons between them, leaving the food to be carried by Bombur, and started the hike to the mountain without a word. Thorin marched ahead with purpose, the hobbit keeping up close behind him, and Dwalin didn’t miss the lingering gaze his brother was giving their king.   
As they ascended the clouds crept overhead, shielding the sun from them and leaving only the brisk air, a predecessor of the winter winds Dwalin remembered very clearly. The barren land began to give way to rocks and boulders unsettling the ground. Apart from the heavy breathing of the Company and the soft thuds of their boots on the rocks, there was not a sound to be heard.   
“So quiet…” Bilbo observed, pausing to glance around them.   
“It wasn’t always like this,” Balin said to him. “Once, these slopes were aligned with woodlands. Trees were filled with birdsong.”   
Dwalin took the opportunity to take in his surroundings properly, trying to imagine the trees and grass back in place.   
“Relax Master Baggins,” he heard Thorin say. “We have food, we have tools and we’re making good time.”   
Dwalin looked back to Thorin and started slightly as he saw him run to the edge of the rock, immediately following on instinct. The sight before him was more than enough to stop him in his tracks.   
The city of Dale lay before them, bleak, charred and deserted. He barely recognised the place without its flags flying merrily in the wind, the ringing bells sounding across the hillside and the bustling of its people in the streets. No sound came from the crumbling walls, save the whistle of the wind through the cracks.   
“What is this place?” Bilbo’s voice sounded from somewhere to his right.   
“It was once the city of Dale,” Balin answered him in a dark voice. “Now it is a ruin, the desolation of Smaug.”   
“The sun will soon reach midday,” said Thorin, turning sharply away from the city. “We must find the hidden door into the mountain before it sets. This way!”   
“Wait,” Bilbo interrupted. “Isn’t this the overlook? Gandalf said to meet him here, on no account were we -”  
“Do you see him?” Thorin cut him off, looking incredulously at the hobbit. “We have no time to wait upon the wizard. We’re on our own. Come!”   
He led them down the hill and towards the mountain, pulling the map hurriedly out of his pocket.

Bustling around the foot of the mountain – Dwalin didn’t know how many hours later – they still couldn’t find anything. He searched and searched the western walls that he found he still remembered from his childhood, but there was nothing there; nothing but stone and more stone. They climbed onto some of the lower level paths up the mountainside, they searched the ground lower down for any underground passage ways, all to no avail.   
Dwalin, who was searching the higher paths, was growing steadily grumpier. It didn’t help that he couldn’t quite keep all of his focus on the search, his mind still straying back to his ward, left in Lake-town when she should be here. A shout from Thorin down below startled him back to his senses and he turned to the edge of the path, looking down to him.   
“Anything?” Thorin shouted up to him.   
“Nothing!” Dwalin called back, unable to mask the frustration in his voice. Thorin turned away with a scowl that Dwalin could clearly make out even form this distance. He jogged back down the path, hoping he could be inspired back down below. As he reached the ground, he could see Thorin had taken out the map again.   
“If the map is true,” he heard Thorin say to himself as he approached. “The hidden door lies directly above us.”   
“Up here!” Bilbo called loudly, pointing to the great statue of Thrór. Dwalin remembered it well; a vast structure, it stretched hundreds of feet high, carved out of the very mountainside as a guardian of the kingdom. It was a grand feat of dwarvish design, but he couldn’t see why Bilbo was drawing attention to it.   
Thorin, however, who had immediately sprinted to Bilbo’s side, gazed up at the statue with a grin.   
“You have keen eyes Master Baggins!” he said softly to the hobbit who turned to smile proudly back at him.   
Dwalin only frowned, looking hard at the statue before he realised; in the deep indentations of the rock depicting Thrór’s armour there were clear steps ascending the height of the statue. He turned to grin triumphantly at Thorin, but his friend only had eyes for the path, heading towards it with a look of such determination as Dwalin had only seen a few times before

_ Kíli _

The burning was unbearable now. The sensation felt like fire on his skin but underneath in his blood, it was icy cold, like a relentless winter storm he could find no shelter from. Every time Óin touched him the effect intensified and he hated himself for screaming as much as he did, for holding onto his brother’s hand like a child, for crying Vana’s name so pitifully. He didn’t blame her for running out, he didn’t blame Thorin for leaving him behind; he felt too stupid and angry with himself to be angry at anyone else.   
_Stupid, ignorant, pig-headed dwarf, I believe were Vana’s choice words,_ he thought to himself before Óin pressed the cloth to his wound again and there was nothing but screaming.   
“Kíli?”   
He felt the bed dip slightly as someone climbed onto it, moving to his other side away from the healer and his brother. He felt a beautifully familiar hand slip into his own, not caring his palm was clammy with sweat, not minding that he clung to it like a lifeline.   
“Kíli, it’s alright. I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you say.”   
“Vana?” His voice was a whimper.   
“Yes?”   
There was so much he wanted to say; _I’m sorry. You were right. I love you. I need you. I don’t want to die. I love you. I’m scared._ But his throat was dry from the screaming and the crying and his voice was weak and rasping. Also, he knew the pain would return soon and he wouldn’t be able to speak.   
“Stay…” he croaked out.   
“Of course,” she placed a hand against his cheek and he sighed at how cool her skin was against his heated skin. “It’s almost over, love, just a few more minutes.”   
Kíli nodded and let out a pained cry as the cloth pressed against his wound once more. Many, many agonizing seconds later the cloth disappeared and he groaned out his relief.   
“There now lad,” Óin said kindly. “That part’s over.”   
“There’s…more…?” Kíli moaned.   
“We’ll see how you go, but for now you should try to get some rest, sleep even. If you relax it will slow the poison’s effects.”  
Kíli nodded but felt his heart quicken at that word; _poison._ In the wild, poison was a death sentence unless you knew exactly what poisoned you and happened to have exactly the right treatment to hand. They had neither here. He squeezed Vana’s hand tighter, his slightly blurred vision seeking her out.   
“Vana?”   
“Kíli, you’re going to be fine,” she responded immediately. “Do you hear me?”   
“Vana,” he breathed, trying to fight the growing fatigue. “If…if I -”  
“You’re not going to die,” she said fiercely. “I know it. Not today, not like this.”   
“How…how do you know?”   
He felt a hand move into his hair and smiled as her fingers gently massaged his scalp.   
“Because I know,” Vana said softly and he allowed himself to believe her. “And, much like your mother, I’m always right.”   
He wanted to snort with laughter but the most he could manage was a stuttered humming sound. He couldn’t fall asleep now, not until he said the most important thing. He took a few deep breaths, forcing his lips to move before he slipped into darkness.   
“I’m sorry…”  
After a beat of silence he felt her warm lips press against his forehead.    
“Me too,” she whispered as she continued to stroke his hair. “Sleep, Kíli,” she said and he heeded her command at once, his eyes slipping shut. Just before he disappeared into a slumber he heard her promise; “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

_ Fíli _

He watched her stroke his brother’s hair as he fell into a slumber and smiled at her expression. Her eyes never left his face, her mouth turned up in a small, comforting smile.   
“I’ll be here when you wake up,” she promised.   
He looked back to Kíli who was already out, though his face still shone with sweat and flushed dangerously hot when he gently felt his forehead. Kíli’s breathing slowed back to normal and Fíli looked up to Vana – her eyes had not left Kíli’s, despite his being closed.   
“Thank you,” Fíli told her softly, causing her gaze to slip to him for a moment. “For today, I mean. You didn’t have to stay.”   
“Of course I did,” she whispered, her fingers still combing through Kíli’s dark locks. “Besides, I wanted to stay. It’s not my birthright in that Mountain. It’s not my long lost home. The only home I need is right here.”   
Fíli couldn’t help but smile at her words, however much they reflected his own reservations. He felt guilty about abandoning his uncle to face the Mountain alone, and he regretted that he wouldn’t be able to share the splendor of finally opening the door into Erebor, but in the end, his little brother was more important than all of that.   
“Ever since Kíli was born I’ve felt responsible for him,” he said, turning his gaze back to his brother. “I’ve always looked after him, and he’s always kept me sane through all the lessons and the meetings and the training.” He gently gripped Kíli’s hand between his own.   
“I know I should be honoured to be the heir to such a glorious kingdom, to be a descendant of Durin, and I am, but I would give all that away in a heartbeat if it could save his life.”   
“You wouldn’t want to be King under the Mountain?”   
He looked up into Vana’s quizzical stare.   
“Not if it meant giving up my brother. So far being the heir has been hectic enough, and we don’t even have the kingdom back yet.” He gripped Kíli’s hand harder and held Vana’s gaze with fierce eyes. “I’ve grown up with this weight on my shoulders, Vana. This knowledge that one day I will have to lead our people, I will have to make all the decisions; I will have to manage everything from money to laws to wars and peace, and all without my uncle to fall back on. I accepted a long time ago that I could never have a normal life, learn a trade, marry a dwarrowdam and have my own sons. I’ve never expected it to be easy and when the day comes that I have to sit on a throne and take responsibility for an entire kingdom I will do it, and I will give everything I have to it - but not without him. Kíli doesn’t know it but I need him, as much as he needs me if not more.   
“Right now, history is being made. Uncle is entering the Mountain for the first time in over a hundred and fifty years, possibly facing a dragon, everything we’ve only ever talked and dreamt about. And yet I can’t be a part of it. Not without Kíli.”   
Fíli turned to gaze down at his little brother’s sleeping form. His face was the picture of peace at that moment, save the sheen of his fever. He could feel Vana still staring at him, completely in awe of his words. He hadn’t been that open with anyone in a long time – anyone apart from Kíli that is.    
“I already see you as my sister Vana,” Fíli said softly, removing one of his hands from Kíli’s to rest on her shoulder. “And I love you as my sister. You know that don’t you?”   
She smiled and nodded, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. “And you’re my big brother. You protect me from danger one minute and then pester me relentlessly the next.”   
Fíli grinned and gently shoved her shoulder. “You make it so easy sometimes, baby sister!”   
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Do you love me enough to stop referring to me as ‘baby sister’?”   
“I was planning on using that term many times during the wedding feast, but after that I might consider it.”   
“Durin save us,” she whispered, shaking her head at him. “Wedding feast? That’s a way off yet.”   
“I don’t know,” Fíli shrugged. “Kíli’s always been the type to jump in feet first, traditions and rules be damned.” He gave her a knowing smirk and she blushed furiously.   
“Yes, well,” she cleared her throat. “Let’s just see how he feels when he recovers.”   
“Vana?”   
They both turned to see Bard edging towards them, speaking in a soft voice. “I’m going to head to the apothecary and see if I can find anything to help. He’s on the other side of town so I might be a while. My children will fetch you anything you need.”   
“Thank you, Bard,” Fíli nodded and extended his hand to the bargeman. He shook it briefly before casting a kind glance at Vana.   
“Try not to be afraid,” he said to her. “And please remember to look after yourself as well.”   
She nodded and gave him a small smile before he departed.

_ Vana _

Bard was gone until well into the afternoon and still Kíli had not woken up. His sleep was restless and disjointed, but still he could not be roused. Óin didn’t dare do anything other than check his wound, fearing that the poison would only spread faster if Kíli woke up. At the same time he did his best to keep Kíli’s temperature down, asking Fíli to constantly bathe his forehead.   
I felt utterly useless sitting there, accepting food and water from Sigrid on occasion, but otherwise simply waiting and praying for Kíli to recover. Bofur was even more uneasy, trying to occupy himself by assisting Sigrid with housework, only to end up making more of a mess. After the third broken plate, Sigrid gave him a lifelong ban and he was back to fidgeting in his seat at the table.   
When Bard finally returned, we saw to our dismay that he was alone and empty-handed.   
“I’m sorry, the people who offered their help didn’t have any answers. The only thing anyone told me was we should treat his symptoms and let his body fight it.”   
I swallowed the lump in my throat and took Kíli’s hand in mine, holding it against my lips in a silent prayer.   
“Does he have a chance of fighting this himself?” Fíli asked Óin in a pained voice.   
“We’ll have to see. The symptoms I can definitely treat, but if he wakes up and panics then the poison will spread faster.”   
“We have this,” Sigrid piped up, reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a glass bottle. “It’s just a solution we use to clean open wounds. It’s meant to draw infection out of the blood. I don’t know if it will work on poison but…” she held the bottle out to Óin who took it with a nod and opened it, peering into the bottle and sniffing the contents.   
“We could try it,” he said.   
“So what’s the plan?” I asked hoarsely, my eyes never leaving Kíli’s face.   
“For now we should let him rest, see if his fever comes down. By then I should have thought of a plan.”

_ Thorin _

His lungs burned with the effort of breathing in the cold air, his legs ached from the climb and his head spun a little from the dizzying height but it all felt like briefest of itches underneath Thorin’s pounding heart. The hobbit had proved himself again and again as a valuable asset to him, but he had surpassed himself with this.   
Thorin glanced behind him to the hobbit and smiled encouragingly at him. His tiny form clearly wasn’t meant for great climbs but he kept up with them. Bilbo caught his eye and smiled back, with an acknowledging nod and the group pressed on.   
The sun was starting to glow a dark orange on the surrounding rock as Thorin finally ascended the final step and came onto a ledge. The giant stone head of Thrór stuck out of the mountainside to his right and the wall in front of him seemed to shine even in the dimming sunlight.  
“This must be it, the hidden door,” he announced to the others as they filed in behind him. He reached into his pocket and felt for the key, a smile spreading widely across his face that he believed he hadn’t felt in decades. Turning to face his company, who were grinning almost as broadly as he was, he held aloft the key.   
“Let all those who doubted us rue this day!”   
His proclamation was met by cheers and laughter and for a moment he felt a pang for his nephews, whose smiles were the ones he had looked forward to seeing the most. Then he saw Dwalin, his oldest friend, grinning with excitement as he stepped forward and he felt his spirits lift again.   
“Right, we have a key,” Dwalin said, stepping up to the wall. “Which means that somewhere there is a keyhole.” He began to search with his hands, feeling the wall above his head and down to his feet. Thorin watched for a few moments, his eyes searching desperately for the keyhole that should be illuminated. The light was shifting, but no matter how hard he peered at the wall, he saw only stone and moss. He looked back to Dwalin, who was now groping the wall with a fierce determination, muttering to himself. “The last light of Durin’s day will shine upon the keyhole.”   
Thorin looked behind him to find that the sun was already halfway set. _  
We must go faster!  
_  “Nori,” he nodded for the thief to aid Dwalin and watched as he took out a spoon, pressed his ear against the wall and began to tap at random. Beside him Dwalin began to grow more agitated, slamming his hand into the wall.   
“We’re losing the light,” Thorin snapped at them. “Come on!”   
With an angry grunt, Dwalin began to kick the wall as hard as he could.   
“Be quiet!” Nori snapped at him. “I can’t hear when you’re thumping.”   
“I can’t find it,” Dwalin groaned loudly before ramming his entire bodyweight into the wall. “It’s not here! It’s. Not. Here!”   
The sun was almost gone.   
“Break it down!” Thorin yelled.   
“Aye!” Glóin said, tossing an axe to Dwalin as he and Bifur stepped forward. The swung their weapons against the wall as hard as they could, sending sparks flying from the metal blades but it made no difference.   
“Come on!” Thorin shouted, looking back to the sliver of sunlight still teasingly peering at them from over the horizon. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, almost to the point of pain and he felt as if he could curse and roar at the very sun itself for taunting him this way. They had come so far, they had defied every doubt, every danger, every manner of logic and possibility to make it to this mountain. It couldn’t end like this.   
“It has to break,” he whispered; an uttered prayer to Mahal and any other god that might be listening. The sharp clatter as the weapons smashed against the rock, the blades splintering into useless chunks of metal, felt like a crushing blow to his chest.  
“It’s no good!” Balin barked at them. “The door is sealed! It can’t be opened by force. There’s a powerful magic on it.”   
Almost as soon as Balin finished his fateful words, the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, and the mountain was left in shadow, and with it their entire quest.   
“No!” Thorin ran to the wall, searching desperately for any sign, a mere glimmer of hope, his shaking hands reaching back into his pockets for the map. He unfolded it and read the runes for the thousandth time.  
 “The last light of Durin’s day will shine upon the keyhole,” he read aloud, wincing inwardly as his voice cracked. He looked up at his company who couldn’t seem to look at him. The dejection and defeat on their faces felt like a spear in his heart.  “That’s what it says. What did we miss?”   
There was no answer, no words, only a few deep sighs. He searched despairingly for his advisor. “What did we miss? Balin?”   
The old dwarf looked at him with a deep sadness that Thorin recognised from long ago – the first time they lost their home.   
“We’ve lost the light,” he said softly, shaking his head. “There’s no more to be done. We had but one chance.” Then, in a moment that finalised to Thorin the end of everything, he turned away. “Come away lads, it’s over.”   
With a series of despondent and exhausted mutters, the company began to follow Balin back down the steps. Thorin, however, turned back to the wall, his mind flooding with thoughts of his sister, his nephews, his father.    
“Wait a minute,” Bilbo said, looking from the departing dwarves to the wall.   
“We’re too late,” Glóin grunted at him.   
“Where are they going?” Bilbo asked, to whom Thorin didn’t know. He only looked back down to the key still clenched in his hand.   
“You can’t give up now!” Bilbo cried determinedly. His words only served to make Thorin feel worse, as he stared at the key in his hand which now seemed to stare back at him; a useless piece of metal that now only stood for one thing – his failure.   
Slowly, solemnly, he allowed the key to slip from his hand and fell with a light clatter to the ground.   
“Thorin?”   
The hobbit was still here. _Why? It’s over._   
Storming past him, Thorin thrust the map into his hands, following the rest of his company as they made their way down the path. He heard Bilbo say something else but he was past caring. He had failed, just as his grandfather and father had failed before him, and now he had to go back to his nephews, his heirs, and tell them that he was too late, that they would never see their home. That was enough to be thinking about right now.   
Nobody spoke as they slowly descended the steps, trying to avoid stumbling in the dark. Thorin looked up to see the clouds beginning to part, making way for the moonlight. That would make this a little easier.   
“Come back!” Bilbo’s shout echoed down towards them, startling them and Thorin looked back up, his instincts making him immediately search for danger.   
“Come back!” Bilbo shouted again. “It’s the light of the moon! The last moon of autumn!”   
Thorin stared back the way they had come in utter disbelief. Could it really be true? Had the hobbit solved the riddle? Had he really succeeded?   
“Thorin?”   
He heard Dwalin call his name below him but he couldn’t answer. Instead his legs suddenly propelled him forward, clambering back over the steps as fast as he could, back to the ledge which he could now see was bathed in silver moonlight, and shimmering proudly on the wall was a round, very distinct keyhole.   
His heart leapt into his mouth as he beheld the sight and his eyes darted over the ground where he had dropped the key – an action he now cursed to the bowels of the earth. Bilbo was searching frantically for it, muttering under his breath as he stepped from here to there. “It was here! It was just -”   
Just as Thorin spotted the place he had dropped it, the hobbit’s large foot struck it, catapaulting the key towards the edge of the cliff. With two large strides, Thorin stomped his foot downwards, catching the string holding the key just as it went over the edge. His heart hammering wildly, he caught Bilbo’s widened eyes as he slowly leant down to pick it up.   
Holding the key tighter than ever before, he looked upon it with a familiar reverence as he slowly straightened up, feeling his company gather beside him. His lips pulled into a small smile as he looked from the key to the keyhole.   
His mind raced faster than the summer gales that had whirled over the mountain in the days of old, his heart beat like the thousands of hammers on anvils that sang in the great halls, and in that moment Bilbo, who had saved his quest, glimmered and shone as the brightest of jewels. He needed no words this time, instead he simply walked towards the keyhole, inserted the key and turned it slowly in the ancient, stiff lock.   
His arms and hands trembling, he pushed hard against the stone surrounding the keyhole, until finally it gave way, opening with a soft thud into a dark stone corridor.   
His entire body and mind froze as he beheld the sight. It had been none too shy of two centuries since he had seen his home, and the memories at the forefront of his mind had since been filled with fire and screams. Now, however, the stone walls and floor were like old friends welcoming him home.   
“Erebor.” His whisper echoed down the hallway, as if the mountain itself was replying in kind.   
“Thorin…”   
He turned to find Balin staring with a similar nostalgia into the mountain, and Thorin smiled down at him and gripped his shoulder as he saw tears welling in his old friend’s eyes. Then, slowly and tenderly as if he was approaching a baby deer, he stepped into the doorway.   
“I know these walls,” he said. “These halls. This stone. Do you remember it Balin? Chambers filled with golden light?”   
“I remember,” Balin nodded as he stepped in, looking upon the walls as if upon a long lost love. Behind him came Nori, who gazed around him in awe; then Glóin, who seemed to be swallowing and breathing too hard to disguise his emotions, and then Thorin saw Bifur, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, gesture to Bilbo to go before him with shaking hands. Bilbo nodded in thanks, stepping tentatively into the doorway before turning to look above him. Thorin followed his gaze and found that he was looking at an old carving in the stone; the throne of the king bathed in the light of the Arkenstone that shone proudly from its position mounted on the head of the throne.   
Slowly, Glóin read aloud the runes inscribed beneath the carving:   
“Herein lies the seventh kingdom of Durin’s folk. May the heart of the mountain unite all dwarves in defence of this home.”   
The words floated in Thorin’s head, moving to the forefront of his mind as he found his gaze drawn further down the corridor, down to where he knew the Arkenstone lay, waiting for him.  
“The throne of the king,” he heard Balin state.   
“And what’s that above it?” Bilbo asked him.   
There was a short pause before Balin answered him. “The Arkenstone.”   
A small shiver ran down Thorin’s spine as he heard the name spoken aloud.   
“Arkenstone… And what’s that?” Bilbo asked.   
“That, Master Burglar,” Thorin answered, turning to face him. “Is why you are here.”


	14. The Secret Identity of Bard's Vegetable Rack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oof, things are heating up!   
> (I'm sorry, I had to...)

_ Dwalin _

The moon still shone as bright as any sun in the sky, bathing them all in a silvery light that only made Dwalin more uneasy. He didn’t know how long they had all been sitting on the ledge but it must have been well over an hour by now.   
The others held a few muttered conversations, Bombur, Bifur and Glóin kept looking back over to Lake-town with grim expressions, Dori fussed over his brothers; but Dwalin’s gaze moved from the open door into the mountain to Thorin and back again.   
The hobbit had gone down into the corridor almost without hesitation when Thorin had given him the order: “Find the Arkenstone.”   
So simple. At least until you factor in the dragon guarding it. He looked to his friend who was standing with his back to them all, gazing out over the dark landscape.   
His conversation with Vana the previous night resurfaced once again in his mind, and once again he tried to tell himself she was overreacting, seeing things that weren’t there, but the nagging doubt refused to leave him alone.   
His friend was different. For one thing, he hadn’t said a word about his nephews. Thorin had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Dwalin knew how much he loved those boys, how much he must have wished they were here. It bothered him how quiet Thorin was. While the others were restless, frustrated, impatient, Thorin was silent.   
His brother had gone with the hobbit, to lead him to the main corridor connecting to the treasure chamber, and he had returned with a troubled expression.   
“Bilbo Baggins is a credit to hobbit-kind and to all free peoples of this world,” he had said. “We would do well to remember that, no matter what may come of this.”   
_I doubt that will do any of us much good,_ Dwalin had thought to himself. _Least of all the hobbit._   
Balin now watched Thorin closely and Dwalin could see the worry etched into his brother’s brow. He clearly wasn’t the only one who believed something was different.

The sudden shake of the earth took them all by surprise, making them jump to their feet and instinctively brandish their weapons. It was over in a few seconds but Dwalin could still feel his very bones tremble from the force of it.   
“Was that an earthquake?” Dori asked in a hushed voice.   
“That, my lad,” Balin answered as he got to his feet, his expression grim. “Was a dragon.”   
A heavy silence fell over them; no one dared to speak as if the dragon would hear and come thundering out of the door. Dwalin shared a look with his brother before turning back to Thorin, who had gone eerily still, staring into nothing even as the entire company proceeded to stare at him, waiting for an order.

_ Vana _

It was dark when Kíli woke up, shifting uncomfortably on the bed as his breath came in laboured gasps.   
“Vana?” He called out hoarsely and I leapt up from the table at the sound of his voice.   
“I’m right here, Kíli,” I told him, resuming my position on the bed next to him. I went to take his hand in mine and recoiled as his skin almost burned mine.   
“Óin, he’s burning up!” I called to the healer who was immediately at Kíli’s side.   
“The fever’s getting worse!” He cursed in Khuzdul before ordering Fíli to resume bathing his brother’s forehead to cool him down.   
Kíli was unable to lie still anymore, gripping the sheets underneath him until his knuckles turned white.   
“Vana!” He called out, panic lacing his ragged voice.  
“Kíli?” I tried to distract him, tears springing to my eyes as he cried out in pain. “Kíli, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine.” I winced at how ridiculously weak my words sounded. “Remember what I said. You’re not going to die. And if you do, I’ll kill you.”   
He let out a sound that was some kind of mixture of laughing and groaning.   
Fíli was still mopping at his forehead with the cold cloth, while Óin continued to inspect the wound.   
“Can’t you do something?” Fíli asked him, no longer making an effort to hide his desperation.   
“I need herbs,” Óin said. “Something to bring down his fever.”   
Bard ran to one of his cupboards, pulling out various pouches and jars.   
“I have nightshade? Or feverfew?”   
“They’re no use to me,” Óin said to him. “Do you have any kingsfoil?”   
“No, it’s a weed,” Bard said, confused. “We feed it to the pigs.”   
“Pigs?” Bofur asked. “Weed? Right.” He nodded and pointed at Kíli. “Don’t move.”   
Kíli grunted at him as he turned and ran out of the house.   
“Hurry up!” I shouted after him before turning back to Kíli. “Kíli, here, take my hand.” I eased his fingers out of the sheets and clasped his wrist, so he wouldn’t crush my firing hand. “Squeeze as much as you want, I won’t break.”   
“You…sure?” He moaned, forcing his eyes open.   
“I reckon I can still take you,” I smiled, though I couldn’t hold back the tears welling up in my eyes.   
Kíli nodded before another spasm took over and he cried out, throwing his head back against the pillow and gripping my wrist so tightly I could feel the bones protesting.   
“Kíli, I’m sorry,” I cried as tears began pouring down my face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do!”   
Kíli only groaned in response, his grip on my arm unrelenting.   
“It’s not your fault,” Fíli said softly, though he never took his eyes off his brother. “I don’t know what to do either.”   
“You just need to be here.” I turned to see Bard watching me sadly. “You’re doing everything you can, he knows that.”   
Before I could respond I felt a light tug on my arm and turned back to find Kíli’s huge brown eyes looking up at me. His mouth opened as he tried to catch his breath and he managed to force out his words.   
“I’m…glad you’re…here…”   
“Where else would I be?” I smiled and reached down to brush the hair away from where it clung to his forehead. “You were there for me when I needed you. You always have been. After this we’ll be a little more even.”   
He smiled slightly before his face contorted in pain once again and I gripped his arm tightly, stroking his hair with my other hand.   
Just as his spasm finished, the house began to shake. It was only for a few seconds but it was enough to make the windows rattle and the dust from the rafters tumble down.   
“Da?” Sigrid called from the kitchen while Bain looked out of the window.   
“It’s coming from the mountain,” he looked back with wide, fearful eyes.   
I swallowed hard, never taking my eyes from Kíli’s as he looked up at me with terrified eyes.   
“You should leave us,” Fíli said to Bard. “Take your children, get out of here.”   
“And go where?” Bard asked in a small voice. “There is nowhere to go.”   
“Are we going to die Da?” Tilda’s frightened voice made me finally break eye contact to look around into her terrified face.   
Bard, on the other hand, snapped back to his senses and relaxed his expression as he turned to her. “No, darling.”   
“The dragon,” Tilda insisted. “It’s going to kill us.”   
Bard took a deep breath as he reached up into the rafter where his vegetables hung from a metal rail, and tugged the rail down from where it hung.   
_Not a rail,_ I realised. _A black arrow! Was that there the whole time?_   
Bard gripped the arrow tightly as he turned back to his children.   
“Not If I kill it first,” he said fiercely. All we could do was gape at him.   
“Bain,” he addressed his son as he grabbed his coat. “Come with me.” With that, the two of them left the house, leaving the rest of us to stare after them.  

_ Dwalin _

_Wait!_  
That was the first and only word out of their leader’s mouth in hours and it reverberated inside Dwalin’s head as if it had been screamed in his ear.   
Bound by their orders, none of the Company made a move except to look turn and look into the corridor. More rumblings came up from the stone though whether it was the dragon or just Dwalin’s ears protesting from listening so hard, he couldn’t tell.   
Thorin, on the other hand, was deliberately looking away, his arms folded in front of him. Dwalin gripped his axe harder as the noise came again and let out a growl when he saw the flicker of reflected flames glowing faintly but angrily on the stone walls at the end of the corridor.   
“We’ve got to go in, Thorin!” he told his friend.    
“No,” he said flatly.   
“What about Bilbo?” Ori asked in a small voice.   
“Give him more time!” Thorin said, still refusing to look at any of them.   
“Time to do what?” Balin demanded, storming to Thorin’s side, hands on his hips as if to scold him like a dwarfling. “To be killed?”   
For the first time since sending Bilbo in, Thorin turned to look at him, his expression hard. “You’re afraid.” The words were accusing, almost threatening and Dwalin saw his brother recoil slightly before answering.   
“Yes, I’m afraid,” he retorted, raising a shaking finger to point at Thorin. “I fear for you! A sickness lies upon that treasure horde, a sickness that drove your grandfather mad!”   
“I am not my grandfather,” Thorin said quietly, turning away again.   
“You’re not yourself! The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there -”   
“I will not risk this quest for the life on one…burglar,” Thorin cut him off with a biting tone, staring determinedly at the ground far below them.    
There was a short silence before Balin responded, his words like freshly sharpened steel.   
“Bilbo. His name is Bilbo.”   
The silence that followed felt eternal, as watching a pan of boiling water waiting for the steam to rise. The company were rooted to the spot, despite their instincts screaming for anything otherwise. Dwalin’s knuckles were white on the axe-handle as he looked from Thorin to his brother and back. He saw Thorin turn to fix Balin with a dark look, the rest of his body rigid as the statue they stood upon, before something changed; a light seemed to return to his eyes, his body seemed to relax slightly and suddenly he spun to look at the mountain before just as quickly starting forward, grabbing a sword from the ground.   
“I’m going in alone,” he announced, briefly looking back to the company. “Do not come after me!” Then he was gone, disappearing into the dark corridor.   
The company watched open-mouthed as he went, disturbed at the sudden turn of events. Dwalin turned to his brother, who looked equally shocked as he came towards them.   
“We’re not actually letting him go in alone are we?” Nori asked glancing at Dwalin.   
He exchanged a look with Balin, who nodded slightly, before answering.   
“No we certainly are not.”

_ Thorin _

He sprinted down the corridor, his sword held tight in his hand, unable to discern the thuds of his footsteps from the hammering of his heart in his ears. His head ran with the tremors of the mountain, and the unholy sound of the dragon roaring, the screams of his people as they burned; all the memories he thought he had finally managed to barricade in the deep recesses of his mind were bubbling over, rocketing to the forefront of his thoughts. He tried to focus on the hobbit, but as he drew closer to the main chamber, he could feel it – almost _hear­_ the gold calling him, pulling him in even as the heat of the flames reached him. He instinctively raised his hands to shield his face against the orange glow, growling as he forced down the panic threatening to rise within him.   
He sprinted forward again until he was finally there. Where there had once been a series of walkways, stairs and halls there was now only gold. It covered the floor and piled high over the steps and walls, a beautiful gleaming ocean that he never thought he’d see again.   
Before he could reflect too much on the sight, the soft patter of footsteps sounded from behind him and he turned to see Bilbo charging up the stairs, his eyes wide with terror.   
“You’re alive!” he exclaimed in relief.   
“Not for much longer!” Bilbo cried, making to run past him when Thorin blocked his path.   
“Did you find the Arkenstone?”   
“The dragon’s com -!”  
“The Arkenstone!” he demanded, scrutinising the hobbit.   
_He refuses to answer..._   
“Did you find it?” he asked again, slowly and clearly so there was no mistake.   
The hobbit looked at him stupidly, staring up at him for a moment before trying to step past him.   
“We have to get out.”   
Thorin swung his sword against the wall with a loud clang, blocking the burglar’s path before moving the sword slowly round, driving him back until it was pointed directly at his chest.   
“Thorin?” The burglar only stared him still, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. “Thorin!”   
Thorin only stared him down, letting the silent threat stand. The hobbit had one job only, and that was to find the Arkenstone. It was a simple yes or no question, but still he made no answer.   
Then his eyes flitted sideways and his face went white with terror. Frowning, Thorin felt the familiar fear creep back into his bones, the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and he turned to see the monster that had haunted his nightmares for well over a century.   
In the dim light of the cavern Smaug glowed a dark, simmering orange-gold, a sign of the fire waiting beneath his hide.   
He forgot everything; the Arkenstone, Bilbo, his quest, it all disappeared when the dragon pulled his lips back in a snarl. In that moment, even as he clutched his sword, Thorin felt like a dwarfling all over again.   
Then they were all beside him – his company had followed, against his orders, and charged to his side, facing down this foe they had no hope of defeating.   
With a tremendous roar, Smaug hounded towards them, his massive wings and tail thundering against the stone pillars as his jaws opened to reveal the deathly orange glow.   “ ** _You will burn!”_**  
“RUN!” Thorin roared at them all, spinning around to leap down the gold covered steps towards the doorway leading back into the corridors.   
If the heat of the fire Smaug conjured hadn’t been enough to warn them, the thundering roar it made as it rushed towards them would have done it. The dwarves all roared in shock and pain as the fire shot over their heads, tumbling down the gold coins and sprinting into the corridor.   
“Come on Bilbo!” Thorin heard Dori yell and he spun around to look for the hobbit, just as Smaug set another cascade of fire raining down on them, his savage roar thundering in his ears. The heat was excruciating, and Thorin backed into the chamber with his arm over his head, screaming as the flames licked down his back. Panic laced through him and he sprinted through the corridor, dropping to the ground and rolling, wrenching his arms free of the coat that was now in flames. Beside him Dwalin took hold of the coat and pulled it free of him, chucking it to the floor and stamping hard until the flames were gone. Gritting his teeth, Thorin got back to his feet.   
“Come on,” he grunted, storming past their shocked faces.

_ Vana _

A pained moan from Kíli snapped us back to reality, along with his iron grip on my arm.   
“Vana,” He groaned my name through gritted teeth.   
“Kíli,” I stared down at him stupidly, trying to think of something to say that I hadn’t already said.   
“I – I love you,” he choked out. “More than – anything –?”   
“I know,” I said, stroking his face with my free hand. “Please, don’t say anything else. Just hold on for me. That’s all I need you to do.”   
“You – you should go.”   
“No I should not.”   
“Vana -”   
“No, Kíli!” I wanted to shout at him for being so stubborn. “I’m not leaving you in a town that may or may not be about to be attacked by a dragon.”   
“I might not – make – it – to then -”   
“Shut up!” I hissed. “Don’t say that. Don’t stop fighting, you hear me? Don’t you ever stop fighting for us!”   
Kíli’s large brown eyes gazed up into mine, filled with so much sadness that I couldn’t help a couple of tears spilling out of my own. At the sight of this, he raised a shaking hand to my face to brush the tears away.   
“I’ll never stop fighting for us,” he whispered, before his hand fell heavily back to the bed. His eyes squeezed shut against the oncoming spasms in his leg and I kept stroking his face and hair as he rode it out.

_ Dwalin _

Dwalin’s heart had never worked so hard in its life, hammering inside his chest so loud he could hear it. Thorin lead them through the passageways of their old home, barely allowing a breath to sneak past his lips. The entire company were moving at a snail’s pace, desperate to muffle any sound, but the hard materials of their boots on the stone and the clinking of their weapons may as well have been the trumpeting fanfare that saw them off from Lake-town.   
They came to an archway leading back out into the open cavern, several levels down now, and Thorin turned to shush them, indicating for them to stop before peering out into the cavern.  
“We’ve given him the slip,” Dori whispered from behind him.    
Dwalin edged forward to see for himself, seeing only the far-reaching gloom of the cavern. Still, his heart didn’t slow. “No. He’s too cunning for that. So where to now?”   
“The western guard room,” Thorin whispered back. “There may be a way out.”   
“It’s too high,” Balin replied, leaning forward to reach Thorin’s ear. “There’s no chance that way.”   
“It’s our only chance!” he hissed back, turning to face the cavern. “We have to try.” With that he began to edge out into the cavern, and Dwalin thought his heart would stop altogether.   
Slowly they crept across the walkway, looking all around them for any sign of movement. It seemed to stretch on forever into the gloom and the darkness below which appeared all-consuming; a silent, bottomless tomb awaiting their misstep. More than once one of the company strayed too close to the edge for Dwalin’s liking and he had to resist the urge to yell at them for their carelessness.    
“Come on,” Thorin whispered urgently, his hushed voice sounding like a foghorn to Dwalin’s ears. On they went, almost halfway now when suddenly a loud clink echoed all around them, causing them to stop dead. Glancing down, Dwalin spotted a single gold coin glinting menacingly at them from the stone floor in front of the Hobbit. Bilbo nervously checked his coat pockets, looking guiltily at the floor before another clink sounded, then another and another.   
The company looked up to find Smaug slithering slowly above their heads, the gold coins clinging to the scales of his massive belly clattering one by one onto the stone. His huge claws landed with deep thuds on the stone above them as he went by, apparently not having spotted them. Dwalin breathed a sigh of relief, turning to Thorin to see him staring wide-eyed up at the monster before silently beckoning them all to follow. They obliged, walking as swiftly as they could across the walkway as the dragon continued to creep along the broken columns and bridges above their heads. Once he turned the corner, they sprinted the rest of the way into the hallway beyond, disappearing into the smaller passages.   
Heart pounding, blood drumming, stomach churning, Dwalin barely paid attention to his whereabouts as he followed the others through the passages.   
That was far too close, and really what sort of escape could there be? Even if they made it out of the mountain, the dragon would only follow them. There was no way they could outrun it, and he was almost certain that Smaug knew exactly where they were. He was no dumb beast in the wild but a cunning and skilled predator who enjoyed the hunt and the torment of his prey almost as much, if not more, than the kill itself.   
“Stay close!” Thorin’s hushed order jerked him back to reality as they sprinted down the passageway, turning the corner into the guardroom – only to feel the urge to run back out again.   
The room was filled with the dead, decaying bodies of the last of their kin. Their skin was grey and paper thin, years of degradation having robbed it of any substance. Their clothes and armour were covered in dust and cobwebs, and Dwalin recoiled at the sight of their faces, still contorted in dying gasps and pleads for air.  He could have known them, eaten with them, sparred with them, passed them in the halls in happier days; there was no way of knowing now.   
“That’s it then,” he said. “There’s no way out.”   
“The last of our kin,” Balin observed sadly. “They must have come here, hoping beyond hope.”   
For a moment they all bowed their heads in a solemn show of respect.    
“We could try to reach the mines,” Balin suggested in a defeated voice. “We might last a few days.”  
“No,” Thorin growled, causing them to look up at him in surprise. “I will not die like this, cowering, clawing for breath.” He took a few steps towards the bodies, regarding them for a moment before turning to face them, his eyes alight with renewed determination.  
“We make for the forges.”   
Dwalin shook his head. “He’ll see us, sure as daylight.”   
“Not if we split up.”   
“Thorin,” Balin protested. “We’ll never make it.”   
“Some of us might. Lead him to the forges. We kill the dragon.” Thorin looked at each of them in turn, his expression growing fierce, and Dwalin felt the familiar surge of passion reigniting in his veins as Thorin’s ice-blue gaze turned to him.   
“If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together.”

_ Vana _

Not long after Bard left, Bain returned alone and empty-handed.   
“They took Da,” he told his sisters with a shocked expression.   
“What? Why?” Sigrid practically ran to her brother, little Tilda trailing behind her.   
“I don’t know. They just came after us and he sent me to hide the arrow.”   
I couldn’t help but groan exasperatedly. This was all we needed.   
“Are the guards going to lock Da up?” Tilda asked in a small voice. Her sister crouched down to her height and gently gripped her arms.   
“Da’s going to be fine. He’s gotten out of situations like this before. It’s probably all a misunderstanding and he’ll be back before you know it.”   
Tilda nodded, still not completely convinced, and wrapped her arms around Sigrid’s neck. I exchanged a look with Fíli.   
“Where in the name of Mahal is Bofur?” he hissed. “It cannot be that difficult to find pigs.”   
“He’s probably lost. He’ll be back soon.” I didn’t even believe my own words as I said them. A loud thud from outside caught our attention.  
“What was that?” Tilda asked.   
“I don’t know,” Sigrid mumbled before going to the door. She opened it and stepped outside and I watched as she went, listening intently. Something wasn’t right.   
“Da?” She called softly. “Is that you Da?”   
There was no answer, only an eerie silence. She turned to go back inside when another thud sounded, followed by a shrill scream. Sigrid bolted inside, trying to pull the door shut but it was blocked by a crude, black blade.   
“Orcs!” I shouted, to the others as the door behind Óin opened, revealing a second Orc He immediately threw the pile of dishes he was holding at it while a third Orc burst through a hole in the roof, its eye finding Kíli. I leapt off the bed with a yell as it bounded towards us, grabbing its wrists before it could swing its daggers and aiming a kick to its stomach. The orc fell back and I ran to the wall where I’d left my sword.    
The door Sigrid was holding was forced open and she screamed as the Orc swiped its blade at her, narrowly missing her chest. It swung again and hit her square in the chest with its arm so she fell back onto the bench. Fíli immediately charged at the orc, pinning it against the wall while Bain, pushed Tilda towards the table. Fíli was pushed roughly to the floor as another orc dropped down from the roof. Tilda screamed and threw a plate at it before Sigrid tugged her under the table.   
“Stay down!” she cried.   
Bain shoved the bench into the orc with a yell before lifting it up and tipping it on top of the orc so it fell to the ground.   
I grabbed my daggers first, throwing one at the orc nearest Fíli, impaling it through the chest. Fíli retrieved the dagger and ran to the orc nearest Bain. I took the next dagger and pressed it into Kíli’s hands before drawing my sword and parrying the second orc’s blade away from Óin before stabbing the orc in the stomach.   
This sword was far heavier than Ringil.   
Two more orcs had dropped through the holes in the roof and I immediately gave Óin my sword before turning to see one of them leap at Kíli, who still lay on the bed, unable to move. I leapt at him with a yell knocking him against the wall as I tried to grab his sword. I gripped the orc by the wrists and we were locked in a wrestling match, with me trying to keep it away from Kíli.   
The other orc had pushed the table off of the girls while Fíli charged it with his dagger. More orcs were still coming, one climbing up over the balcony to come in through the open door.   
Before it reached the balcony, a dagger appeared out of nowhere, impaling it through the neck, followed by a flash of red hair.    
_Tauriel!_   
The elf held her daggers aloft as she entered the house, scoping out her next kill. She immediately stabbed the two orcs nearest the girls, before spinning around to kill a third orc approaching her from behind. The momentary distraction was enough for me to grab at the orc’s sword but it reacted faster than I thought it would and twisted out of my grip, tripping me and pinning me to the floor. Before it could kill me, an elegant, wooden bow appeared under its chin and flipped the orc off me. I looked up to see none other than the blonde Elf-prince, slicing the orc’s throat with one of his daggers.   
A colossal scream reached my ears and I turned to see an Orc gripping Kíli’s injured leg while he writhed in agony. Before I could even scream his name a gleam of a knife flashed in the corner of my eye and Tauriel’s dagger was buried deep in the orc’s throat. Kíli gasped at the relief before slipping onto the floor.   
Legolas and Tauriel leapt and twirled through the house as the orcs kept coming, killing them almost too swiftly to see.   
Fíli had positioned himself in front of the children, telling them to get down, while Óin still fought off the oncoming orcs. He misjudged a swing and fell back as an orc aimed a punch at his face. The sword clattered to the ground and I grabbed it, swinging it at the orc’s arm before it could deal a final blow to the healer. The orc screeched as its arm fell to the ground but I soon cut it short when I removed his head along with it.   
“Óin, come on!” I shouted and pulled the healer to his feet, guiding him towards the children in the corner. “Get down!” I shoved him to the floor and swung the sword to block a blade aiming for Tauriel’s back. She spun around as I impaled the orc through its chest, kicking its body off my blade.   
She then spun back to parry another orc blade while I darted around the table to fight off an orc heading for Bain. Once that orc was dead I heard another agonising scream and turned to see Kíli wrenching both Tauriel’s dagger and the dagger that I had given him out of an orc’s side before collapsing to the ground, his mouth open in a roar of pain while Tauriel stared at him in horror.   
“Kíli!” I ran to him, kneeling next to him. The rest of the orcs were dead and I dropped the sword to the floor to take Kíli’s hand in mine. His eyes were closed and he could only let out small moans of pain.   
“Kíli, it’s alright. “ I gently eased the daggers out of his hands, dropping them on the floor before cradling his face in my hand. His skin was no longer hot, but ice cold.   
“Óin!” I called to the healer desperately and he rushed over, kneeling to feel Kíli’s forehead and his pulse.   
“Kíli, look at me,” I said desperately unable to keep the tears out of my voice. “Look at me!”   
“You killed them all,” Bain’s shocked voice said behind me.   
“There are others,” Legolas told him before marching out of the house. “Tauriel, come.”   
I looked up to see Tauriel look from Kíli to Legolas, eyes wide, at an utter loss of what to do. Fíli knelt next to me, taking his brother’s hand.   
“We’re losing him!” Óin cried and Kíli let out another moan.   
“You!” I looked up at Tauriel. “You’re an elf! You healed me! Can’t you do something?”   
Tauriel looked guiltily at me, and then at Legolas, who merely glanced at us before looking back to Tauriel with a blank expression.   
“Tauriel,” he nodded for her to follow before disappearing. Tauriel swallowed hard and made to follow.   
“You helped us before!” I shouted after her desperately. “You can’t do this!”   
She paused in the doorway, looking back to Kíli with a look of despair. She tensed, her hands flying to the daggers at her sides before gasping.   
“Athelas,” she whispered, taking the plant from a very confused looking Bofur.   
“What are you doing?” he muttered.   
“I’m going to save him,” she said, before striding into the house with a new confidence.


	15. If this is to end in fire...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Jesus this was a rollercoaster...

_ Thorin _

“This way!” Thorin sprinted down the walkway into the cavern, Bilbo and Balin close on his heels. In the vast openness he felt horribly exposed and, in turn, the familiar prickle of fear on the back of his neck.   
_The plan is set_ , he reminded himself. _Everyone knows what to do. It’s now or never.  
_ That prickle turned into a full blown burn as he heard the thud of Smaug’s paws on the stone above their heads.    
“ ** _Flee!_** _”_ his sneer thundered all around them, echoing terribly off of the rock faces. **_“Flee! Run for your lives! There is nowhere to hide.”  
_** Oh Thorin knew that all too well.   
“Behind you!” Dori’s yell sounded from somewhere behind him. The whoosh of air as Smaug turned his huge head around to look for them almost knocked Thorin off of the walkway but still he kept running.   
“Come on!” he heard Dori shout again amidst the thunder of the dragon’s chase. “Run!”  
“Here, you!” There was Dwalin, over to Thorin’s left. “Here!”   
With a tremendous growl, the dragon changed direction, only to be distracted once again by the yells and curses of both Glóin and Bifur as they sprinted past on the walkway below them.   
As he ran into the main corridor Thorin heard the monstrous roar and surge that could only be the dreaded dragon-fire. The noise and the heat on the back of his neck taunted the century-old nightmares out of the crevices of Thorin’s mind as he kept running, instinct completely taking over. He needed to get away from the fire, and he prayed for his comrades to be spared from its wrath. He thought he could still hear the shouts of his kin echoing off the stone, trying to escape the monster within.    
“THORIN!” The hobbit’s voice pulled him back to reality and he whirled around to find Bilbo and Balin waiting in the doorway of the passage they were aiming for. Frustrated at his stupidity, he made to follow them when suddenly the horrendous orange eyes of the dragon appeared at the end of the hall. He saw the little hobbit glance round and then look back to him in fear.    
“Follow Balin!” Thorin ordered him, but the hobbit didn’t move, even as the dragon began to advance. It was only when Balin grabbed his arm that he finally moved out of harm’s way, just as the dragon reared its head back, that ominous orange glow growing in its chest.   
With a yell Thorin ran for it, sprinting towards the only escape there was; one of the mine shafts. He leapt into it, his sword falling from his hand into the blackness as he grabbed a hold of one of the chains. Hanging on for dear life, he looked up at the levy above him which had begun to turn, slowly lowering him into the depths of the mine. The dragon followed, crawling down the shaft, his entire body almost filling it. He watched Thorin go with a hungry sneer, and the dwarf could only watch as the monster got closer and closer.   
“Thorin!” Dwalin’s voice echoed over the creaking chains and the growls of the dragon. Far above him he could see the figure of his best friend, viciously swinging his axe into the gears controlling the levy. With a clang, the chain suddenly stopped, and before Thorin could react, suddenly he was ascending. He passed the sharp teeth, as big as his arm, and the orange eyes burning dangerously brightly. The dragon turned and suddenly he wasn’t moving anymore. He looked down in horror to see the beast’s head turned upwards, his jaws locked around the chains as he tugged. With a groan, the levy gave way and Thorin was dumped unceremoniously on top of the dragon’s jaws.   
His entire body shook at the feeling of it all; the dragon’s hide was hot, burning even through his heavy boots. Slowly, tauntingly, it opened its jaws slightly, almost sending Thorin tumbling into the depths as he beheld the deep orange glow of the rising fire in his throat. The heat and the stench of his breath was overpowering and with a shout, Thorin leapt away, reaching out almost blindly to grab the next chain. The dragon twisted its head, opening its jaws again in a snarl, ready to snap him up when, suddenly, thankfully, the gears from above him toppled onto its head with a huge crash, sending him tumbling downwards as he tried to grip the sides of the mine with his claws.   
Looking up, he could see Nori and Dwalin, bashing at the gears attached to his chain until finally he was travelling upwards again. He let himself give a relieved sigh, until a growl from below him caught his attention and he looked down to find the dragon watching furiously. His mouth opened and then the fire was coming.   
_No! Please, no!_     
“Thorin!” Nori yelled and he looked up. He was almost there! Almost -!  
He reached out for Nori’s outstretched hand, pulling him sharply from the chain and they charged back down the corridor, the heat of the dragon fire chasing them as they went.   
“Go!” Thorin ordered. “Go!”   
They followed the corridor, not stopping until they were through the huge, iron bars protecting the opening to the forges.   
Breathing heavily, trying to quell the screaming in his head, Thorin looked around to find that everyone had made it, except Bifur and Glóin. His heart leapt into his throat but he pushed it down for now, looking to the massive furnaces, which were empty and bleak.   
“The plan’s not gonna work,” Dwalin said. “These furnaces are stone cold.”   
“He’s right,” Balin added. “We’ve no fire hot enough to set them ablaze.”   
_No!_ Thorin turned to face out towards the mines. The dragon was almost upon them.   
_I will not die like this!_  
“Have we not?” he growled, marching with a crazy determination towards the iron bars. Outside, the claws of the dragon had come into view, gripping the top of the mine shaft.   
“I did not look to see you so easily outwitted!” he shouted, watching as the dragon’s furious, ugly head appeared.   
“You have grown slow,” he continued, smirking slightly as the dragon growled. “And fat in your dotage Slug!”   
With a mighty snarl, Smaug drew himself out of the mine shaft, rearing his head back once again.   
“Take cover!” Thorin called to his company and they ran to the bars, standing flat against the stone at the foot of them. With a horrendous roar, the fire descended upon them, thundering angrily past the stone and iron columns. Thorin squeezed his eyes shut and dug his nails into his palms at the heat, suppressing the urge to scream.   
Then it stopped. Another roar to its place; a much more beautiful and welcome roar. Thorin opened his eyes and had to grin. The forges were alight once again, flames erupting from the furnaces and hugging the great stone chambers in which Thorin knew were piles and piles of gold coins.   
The dragon growled once again and Thorin looked up to see it begin to smash the front of its body against the iron columns, making them bend inwards.   
Charging forwards he swallowed his fear and replaced it with a mental map of the forges, trying to remember everything he learned as a dwarfling.   
“Bombur! Get those bellows working! Go!”   
Bombur nodded and went to it, leaping onto the chain with surprising dexterity and pulling it down, the bellows beneath him sending him bouncing back up. That would keep the fires going.   
“Bilbo! Up there! On my mark, pull that lever!” He pointed up the steps at the other end of the forges to the stone lever by the water wheel. It would release the water stores to extinguish the fire.   
More clangs echoed around the chamber; the columns were beginning to give way.   
“Balin,” he called to his advisor. “Can you still mix a flash-flame?”   
“Aye, it’ll only take a jiffy. Come on!” The old dwarf sprinted up to the lab, followed closely by Ori and Dori.   
Another clang made Thorin spin round; the dragon was almost through.   
“We don’t have a jiffy!” Dwalin said softly next to him.   
Charging behind the gold chambers, Thorin took a quick glance around him. Everyone was in position.   
_It’s now or never,_ he reminded himself as he heard the columns finally give way with a resounding smash. The dragon’s paws thudded along the stone floor as it slithered into the forge and Thorin watched as his long neck appeared around the side of the chamber, its evil gaze fixing on Thorin.   
Before the fear could overcome him again, Thorin opened his mouth in a loud yell.   
“NOW!”   
Above him, Bilbo leapt upwards, grabbing onto the lever and pulling it downwards. It crept and creaked with misuse but down it went, opening the door to the water stores and letting the waves descend.   
They smashed into the dragon’s sides, extinguishing the building flames and it leapt away with a snarl, flapping its wings in a panic. The movement forced the steam emanating from its hide in Thorin’s direction and he backed away quickly, shielding his burning face with his hands. He ducked as Smaug’s wings caused loose rocks and debris to tumble down from the forge’s walls.   
The water wheel began to turn, slowly but surely, and all the mechanics with it. Above their heads the carts suspended from chains were moving through the forge, and the furnaces seemed to burn even more fiercely.   
It seemed that everything in the room, dwarves and machines alike, were now working to bring the dragon down and the sight made Thorin’s heart leap with a new hope. Before he could truly relish it, Smaug turned back towards him, stomping with a new determination and fury and Thorin backed away, his gaze never leaving the dragon’s.   
_I will not die like this!_   
Blue flames suddenly exploded from the dragon’s side, and Thorin glanced sideways to see Dori throwing bottles of flash-flame with all his might towards the dragon. As Thorin had expected, the dragon barely noticed it, blinking slightly with every hit and growling even more. He was almost upon Thorin now and he braced himself to run. No matter what happened to him, he had to give his company a chance to escape.   
And then, out of nowhere, the mighty clash of metal on metal echoed above his head and down fell the carts, directly on top of the dragon. It let out a roar of fury as the chains connecting the carts tangled around its neck and claws and Thorin looked up to find Glóin and Bifur, each peering out of a cart, holding their weapons aloft.   
He could have cried out in joy at the sight of them, apparently unharmed, but the dragon was now in a panic, tossing its head with a roar and flapping its wings ferociously. Thorin ducked out of the way of a falling cart and ran to the sides of the furnaces.   
_Please be ready,_ he prayed silently as he pulled the chain to the chamber door. In a beautiful rush, the molten gold flowed from the chamber into the narrow canals built into the floor, flowing along and following route through to the final setting for his plan.   
The dragon was still trying to untangle itself, throwing itself in all directions as his loyal dwarves began to descend back into the forge.    
“Lead him to the Gallery of the Kings!” he ordered, sprinting to the wall of the forge and grabbing the wheelbarrow. Ignoring the protests from the dwarves, he charged towards the main canal, ducking under Smaug’s swinging tail and wings, making sure the dragon saw him as he threw the wheelbarrow on top of the flowing gold and leapt into it. Within seconds the metal was burning his hands but he steeled himself against it, focusing on the opening ahead of him.   
A startled cry drew his attention behind him and he turned to see the stone steps leading up to water lever crumble under a swipe of the dragon’s tail, sending Bilbo tumbling to the floor. The dragon looked over at the hobbit with a horrific glint in its eyes and Thorin thought his heart might have stopped.   
_Not to him!_ He screamed in his head. _Not to him!  
_ “Keep going Bilbo!” he screamed. “Run!”  He turned back, noticing that he was almost at his destination. Cursing and praying at the same time, he braced his feet against the bottom of the wheelbarrow as it reached the drop out of the drain and leapt with all of his strength as it went over the edge. He caught the chain and watched as the gold flowed down into the stone mould below him. Around him the stone was echoing with the roars of the dragon, and the crumbling sound of the forges being destroyed in its wake. Silently praying that Bilbo was all right, he began to lower himself onto the top of the stone mould. There was a beat of silence as he went, followed by the tiny patter of feet on stone and he looked down to find the tiny figure of Bilbo sprinting into the gallery.   
He had barely made it inside when the rock wall behind him exploded outwards and the dragon emerged. The great tapestries that had hung their toppled to the ground, the material covering the tiny hobbit as he ran. With a final thud, the dragon bounded into the gallery, his massive head turning this way and that.   
“ ** _YOU think you can deceive me, barrel-rider?_** ” the beast bellowed into the vast cavern.   
Thorin’s feet finally touched the stone beneath his feet and he kept a hold of the chain as he fought to find his balance. The dragon continued to search the room, speaking more softly as its lips pulled back in a feral snarl. “ ** _You have come from Lake-town! This is some sordid scheme hatched between those filthy dwarves and those miserable, tub-trading lake-men! Those snivelling cowards with their long bows and black arrows! Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit!”  
_** Images of his nephews filled his head as the dragon turned and began to slither away. Looking down, Thorin saw his company all in place at the various chains holding the stone together and, bracing himself for the horror of those burning eyes again, he looked up at the dragon one more time.  
Before he could speak, however, he saw the hobbit reappear from beneath the tapestry.   
“This isn’t their fault!” Bilbo shouted and Thorin was astonished to see him running right up to the dragon. “Wait! You cannot go to Lake-town!”   
With a snarl, the dragon turned to face him, lowering its head right down to Bilbo.   
_No!_   
“ ** _You care about them, do you?_** ” it sneered. “ ** _Good! Then you can watch them die!_** ”   
_Fíli and Kíli have to survive!  
_ “HERE!” He yelled with all of his might. “YOU WITLESS WORM!”   
A beat of silence followed his words as the dragon froze, before turning slowly round to face him with a resounding growl.   
“ ** _You!”  
_** “I am taking back what you stole!” Thorin gripped the chain harder, nearly wincing at his blistering palms. He swallowed hard as the dragon began to stalk towards him.   
**_“You will take nothing from me, dwarf! I laid low your warriors of old! I instilled terror in the hearts of Men! I am King under the Mountain!”  
_** It was so close. He could smell its breath, feel the heat of its fire. But Thorin steeled himself, standing straight and proud.   
“This is not your kingdom! These are dwarf lands! This is dwarf gold! And we will have our revenge! **_Ikrid urzul!_** ”   
He screamed the final order and wrenched at the chain above his head with all his strength. Below him he could hear the rest of the dwarves yelling as they pulled the chains free of the stone mould and the rocks crumbled to the ground, revealing the huge gold statue of Thrór. Hanging from the chain far above, Thorin looked down into the golden shine and felt a strange thrill in his veins. It was a truly beautiful sight, reflecting the little light that made its way into the gallery and building it into this glorious light, emanating it like the sun. He tore his eyes towards the dragon, who was staring at it in awe, its jaws open in a look of sheer pleasure. Its eyes were wide, like a dog who’s seen some fresh meat and it let out a low, breathy sound, as if the sight of it was stealing the air from its lungs.   
Then it fell.   
The gold, still molten, melted into a golden waterfall, crashing down onto the dragon and sending it tumbling backwards with a roar. The gold filled the sunken floor in the middle of the gallery, burying the dragon completely in its burning depths and for a moment Thorin felt a surge of joy, such as he’d never felt in his life.   
Then, with a tremendous roar, the liquid gold exploded as the dragon burst out of it, still completely covered in it, like a crude statue come to life.  
“ ** _Revenge!_** ” Smaug screamed, galloping ferociously towards the opening to the gallery. “ ** _Revenge! I will show you revenge!_** ”   
He could only watch in horror as Smaug burst of the gallery, listening with bated breath as the beast thundered through the cavern, bursting through the front gates with a mighty crash.   
_Fíli_ , he thought to himself. _Kíli._ **  
** He began to lower himself down the chain, his arms and legs working feverishly to reach the bottom. He made it the lower level where the rest of his company waited, Dwalin reaching out to haul him from the chain before they all ran towards the entrance hall without a word.   
A terrible sight awaited them, the hall littered with fragments of stone pillars and statues, the front gates completely open and surrounded by the collapsed rock; and in the distance, they could see a rain of gold descending from the terrible dark shape of Smaug, fading into the night towards Lake-town. ****  
Breathing heavily, Thorin’s mind suddenly leapt to his sister’s words.  
_“You’re insane for thinking you can do this, and you’re downright cruel involving my boys.”_  
Fíli and Kíli have to survive.

_ Vana _

“Get him on the table.” Tauriel ordered as she crushed the kingsfoil into a bowl.   
Fíli, Óin and Bofur lifted a writhing Kíli onto the table. He was mad with pain now, struggling so violently that the combined efforts of all three of them couldn’t keep him still.   
“Kíli!” I stood next to the table and tried to pin his arms down, feeling utterly useless. “Kíli it’s alright, it’s going to be over soon!”   
Kíli couldn’t even hear me. His eyes opened and his once warm brown eyes were now a deathly pale blue colour and the whites were bloodshot and watery.   
“Kíli!” I shouted in spite of myself. “Don’t you dare! Don’t die on me, you bastard!”   
“Hold him down,” Tauriel ordered, unnervingly calm as she placed the bowl of kingsfoil-mulch on the table and peered at Kíli’s wound. Fíli was on his shoulders, I was on one of his arms and Bofur on the other, while Óin held down his injured leg.   
“I need more light!” Tauriel ordered, glancing at Bofur who nodded and hurried to retrieve a candle. When he returned and held the candle above Tauriel’s hands, he took one look at Kíli’s wound and turned green.   
“I need to cut out the arrow,” she said and withdrew one of her daggers. She lightly dipped the tip of her dagger into the wound, causing Kíli to scream even louder.   
“Hurry up!” I shouted at her, unable to stop the tears pouring down my face. Tauriel only gave a small shake of her head.   
“The barb has torn the muscle from the bone!”   
“Yes I can see that!” Bofur yelped, determinedly looking towards the ceiling.  
With a loud exhale, Tauriel scooped the arrowhead out of the wound with the tip of her dagger, sheathed it and took a handful of the kingsfoil, beginning to chant in Elvish as she pressed the plant into the wound. Kíli writhed and screamed again at first but she pressed even deeper, her chanting growing more insistent. Sigrid ran forward to hold down Kíli’s other leg, shouting for Tilda to help.   
I never took my eyes from Kíli’s as his cries of pain grew quieter and his writhing stopped. He gazed at Tauriel in wonder as she continued to chant, adding more of the plant to the wound. His pale skin began to regain some of its colour and his eyes began to turn brown again. His breathing came easier and he wasn’t in agony anymore. His eyes never left Tauriel as she continued her chanting, until they finally rolled back into his head and he collapsed back on the table.   
“Kíli?” I tentatively called his name. His chest heaved as he took in a huge breath, his eyes still closed. I reached down to take his hand. “Kíli, I’m here. I’m right here.”   
I swore I felt his hand lightly grip mine and I reached my free hand up to stroke his hair.   
A small moan sounded from across the table and I looked up just in time to see Bofur fall to the floor with a loud thud.   
“Did he just -?” I asked.   
“Yep,” Fíli muttered with a roll of his eyes.   
Sigrid huffed and left the house, returning less than a minute later with a bucket full of water, which she proceeded to empty over Bofur’s head.   
The dwarf awoke with a startled yelp, sitting upright and calling out “Make mine a double!” He then blinked in confusion at both the fact that he was soaking wet and the sight of Sigrid holding a bucket.   
“What was that?” he muttered.   
“Lake-town medicine,” Sigrid answered haughtily before dumping the bucket on the floor.   
I managed to chuckle as I watched Kíli’s breathing return to normal.   
“He’s unconscious,” Tauriel said before turning to Sigrid. “Can you get a cloth and some warm water?”   
Sigrid immediately obliged. I removed my cardigan and folded it up before gently lifting Kíli’s head and placing it underneath. I could feel Tauriel watching me but I did my best to ignore her. Instead I leant down the pick the bench up from the floor and sat next to Kíli, returning my hands to his hand and hair.   
“Kíli, I know you probably can’t hear me, but I don’t care. I love you, okay, don’t forget that. And don’t sleep too long, because I need to hear it from you as well.”   
“We should give them a moment,” Óin whispered and motioned for Fíli to follow him towards the kitchen. I nodded in thanks and looked up at Tauriel who was still watching me curiously.   
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I guess we both owe you now.”   
“Do not think of it,” she said softly, with a small, composed Elf-smile. “I am glad he is alive.”  
“Me too,” I smiled weakly at her. “I’m sorry, for what I said to you in the jail. I was…well I wasn’t myself.”   
“It is already forgotten,” Tauriel assured me before looking down at Kíli. “He is a good person; a rare soul who is not corrupted by the greed and hate of this world. I would have hated for him to be taken from it so soon.”   
“You and I share the same opinion.” I remarked, peering at her, willing her to read between the lines. She did.   
“Not the exact same,” she said with a reassuring nod. “His heart belongs to you, and yours to him. Mine will belong to someone else someday.”   
“I hope it does,” I nodded to her, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders.   
“I think you should have this,” Tauriel said, unbuckling the belt from around her waist to which I realised Ringil was attached. “This is yours, I never felt right to take it. May it serve you well.” She handed it to me and I took it, revelling in the familiar light weight.   
“Thank you,” I whispered, placing it on the bench next to me, before looking up at her with a slight frown. “You don’t want an ancient Elvish blade?”   
Tauriel only shook her head slightly. “I prefer my daggers.”   
With that she followed the others into the kitchen to wait for the water.   
“Kíli,” I said softly, leaning my head close to his so I could reach his ear. “I’m sorry, for everything. I can’t tell you why, but I can tell you I’m so, so sorry and I promise I’ll tell you everything, eventually. I just want to keep you safe. I need to keep you safe. Can you understand that?”   
No answer came, as I expected. I blinked back fresh tears and pressed a kiss to Kíli’s forehead. “I love you so much.”   
“I’m sorry,” Tauriel’s musical voice interrupted me as she approached with a bowl of water and a cloth. “I need to clean the wound now.”   
I nodded and stood up from the bench, getting a twisting feeling in my stomach as the reality of what had just happened started to dawn on me.   
“I need some air,” I muttered before darting outside, stumbling over the orc bodies still littering the floor.

I only just made it to the balcony rail as my stomach contents rippled out of my throat and down into the water below.    
“Vana?” Fíli’s voice softly called from behind me as he came up to stand next to me, placing his hand softly on my back, while the other reached in front of me, holding a cup of water. “He’s alive, Vana. He’s going to be fine.”   
“I know,” I breathed and nodded. I accepted the cup and drank it in one gulp. “I know he is, but…that was close…”  
At the silence that followed, I turned to see Fíli, staring at me, his face pale.   
“That was close,” he agreed, his eyes growing wide. I met his gaze for a moment before wrapping my arms around his neck as he sobbed softly and I wept into his shoulder. After a couple of minutes we managed to get it out of our systems and pulled away to look at each other’s red, wet faces. At the sight of each other we both burst out laughing.   
“What would Kíli say if he could see us now?” I breathed through my bouts of laughter.   
“He’d say we were a couple of sentimental old fools who should save their tears for when he actually dies.” Fíli grinned and we both burst out laughing all over again.   
“Then,” I added. “He’d say, ‘the things I have to do for you to admit how much you really love me!’”   
Fíli laughed and shook his head. “He’s such an idiot sometimes.”   
I could only nod at that.   
“We should head back in,” I muttered, wiping my face a final time and opening the door. We entered the house to find Kíli awake and looking up at Tauriel who was wrapping a bandage around his leg looking slightly uncomfortable but still watching him in the same curious way.   
“You cannot be her,” Kíli whispered and I frowned in confusion, glancing at Fíli who was even more confused that I was.   
“She is far away.” Kíli continued. “She is far, far away from me. She walks in starlight, in another world. It…” He shook his head slightly. “It was just a dream.”   
I couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath I took as I saw his hand reach up to gently touch hers.   
“Do you think she could’ve loved me?” he whispered.  
Tauriel only looked at him with her Elvish composure before noticing me.   
“I think he is asking for you,” she said, a slight blush breaching her blank expression.   
“Vana?” Kíli frowned up at Tauriel.     
“Durin’s braided beard,” Fíli sighed from next to me. “He is the biggest idiot.”   
“Agreed,” I glanced at him. “Let’s never speak of this?”   
“I can’t promise I won’t bring it up at your wedding feast,” Fíli smirked and I nudged him hard in the shoulder before making my way over to Kíli.   
“I’m here you wounded fool,” I giggled, placing a hand on Kíli’s head to stroke his hair. He turned his head to look at me, still frowning in confusion. I watched as his face softened into a small smile that made his deep brown eyes shine like molten bronze.   
“Vana,” he breathed, his hand slowly moving up to mine. “You’re here…you’re real,”   
“Of course I’m real,” I shook my head, still stroking his hair, lightly running my thumb over his cheek. “You almost died on me, you know.”   
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning into my hand.   
“Tauriel saved you. It’s becoming a habit of hers,” I raised an eyebrow and chuckled as the realisation came over his face.   
“She…that was…oh…” He began to blush, as much as his condition would allow. “I thought it was you. I heard her words and I saw light, but then I saw you.” His hand moved from mine as he reached up to touch my face. “You had flowers in your hair, dancing under the stars, laughing. I thought it was Vána herself, the Vala, taking me to Mahal, welcoming me into the Halls -”   
I cut him off by pressing a soft kiss to his lips, relishing their warmth and their softness as if I hadn’t felt them in months. In fact it can only have been a matter of days since I had last kissed him, but it felt like so much longer. Eventually, I let the kiss end and rested my forehead against his.    
“I’m afraid that Vána’s going to have to wait,” I whispered. “I’m not ready for her or any other god to take you yet.”   
Kíli opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a deafening thunder and a rumbling of the earth that shook the very foundations of the house from the lake floor. I looked up into the worried faces of my dwarven companions and felt the sickening twist of fear in my stomach.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it!


End file.
